Secretary
by Lapis Love
Summary: Never get into bed with a politician. That's what they say. Its a messy business that could end up costing you your soul. He was the hottest commodity in the world and she was the one who got him to where he is, but can she walk away from the empire they're just beginning to build? AU story.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I saw this quote that Spike said to Buffy on Tumblr (thanks Wowzersduh) and I thought with some tweaking here and there it would be the perfect quote for Bamon. I didn't add it in verbatim, but took parts of it and came up with this baby that's also inspired by another one of my favorite couples. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

This was her last night here. At least that's what she told herself. That was the agreement. Work yourself to the bone, never sleep, never eat, don't even dream about anything else because everything centered on him. He was the reason she clamored out of bed way before the sun rose. He was the reason her BlackBerry perpetually stayed glued to either her hand or head. He was the reason she flew in like a hurricane and reshaped everything about him, strengthened his weaknesses, took on the problems that mattered to him and wore them as her own.

Bonnie Bennett shifted her feet on the emerald grass. A sharp wind blew by causing her to stiffen and tuck her face into the high collar of her cream Burberry coat. It was a mild spring to which the locals took full advantage of, but Bonnie didn't have time to enjoy it. She didn't have time to enjoy anything. Not when she was stuck in marathon long advisory and strategy meetings. She didn't have time to enjoy anything as she sauntered down the halls in her nude pumps and her curls bouncing against her shoulders as she barked out orders to key members of her staff.

Her role should have ended back in November, but he kept her on, convinced her that without her by his side everything they had worked tirelessly to accomplish could all fall down the political drain. Bonnie remembered he had chided her once in saying that she underestimated him. At the time she didn't fully express her deep rooted opinion on how powerful he could become with the right people lighting the way. She knew that some people had to discover and figure things out on their own, so she didn't stoop to argue with him, nor agreed with his assessment. She merely told him:

"You do your job and I'll do mine."

Those days of traveling from city to city, town to town, state to state was over. It was nothing but a multimillion dollar armada all leading to Oz, and she was here, they both were.

Now she was leaving. It was the only right and logical thing to do.

Her BlackBerry chirped in her hand. Bonnie stared, transfixed, at the caller ID and sent the call to voice mail. She just needed a minute, one minute to clear her head before returning to her office to do the one thing that would be extraordinarily hard to do. Bonnie had typed so many speeches, memos, notes, emails in just a six-month time span that she was lucky she hadn't developed carpal tunnel syndrome. Yet she would have welcomed it anyways because everything she had been doing, she did it for a good cause—the _best _cause there ever was.

Maybe she was being biased. Maybe she was letting her personal feelings cloud her judgment. It wouldn't be the first time, but it was definitely past time for her to get her head out of the clouds and stop playing this game. It was dangerous. It was dirty. It was scandalous and it could not only tarnish her reputation but it would destroy his.

Her thoughts were unpatriotic. That's probably the first thing he would accuse her of. Bonnie had to smile at that. They had been here before. They had had this _talk _before and just like the other times it all ended the same way.

Behind closed doors and under bed sheets.

A rush spiked through her. She berated herself. She said she wouldn't go back there. There was no going back only moving forward, and it was time she took control of the reins to her life and left while she was still recognizable to herself.

The sound of size eleven Hugo Boss wingtip Oxford shoes approached her from the east. Bonnie didn't bother looking over her shoulder to have her suspicions confirmed or denied. She knew it was him. The wind carried over the scent of his cologne, something she had picked out because it was a fresh wintry scent that reminded her of his glacial blue eyes.

"It's not Thursday night," his seductive voice spoke a foot and a half away from her left ear.

"I know that."

"Something must be on your mind. You're in our spot, but you didn't call me or give me the Bat signal."

"I needed a minute."

He shifted again, this time standing next to her shoulder-to-shoulder. When Bonnie chanced a look at him she realized he wasn't wearing a coat, not that he ever needed to wear one. He was in a basic black suit, white shirt, plain blue tie. Simple yet elegant and fit his body like a glove. All of his suits did.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

Bonnie sighed. "Lots of things. I think I'm at that point where a woman starts to question where she wants her life to go next, what her next move should be. I'm nearing thirty. My mom keeps staring at me with eyes full of longing for grandbabies."

A crease formed between his dark eyebrows. "I thought you were already on the path you wanted to be on? I thought _this _was the life you wanted?"

"You assumed."

"We talked about this, extensively or where you just saying what you thought I wanted to hear? You got on my case about that," he reminded her.

Bonnie lowered her eyes to her hands, glad they weren't shaking. "I know what I said. I remember _all_ of our conversations. They are what keep me going throughout the day when we can't…see each other. Stolen moments. That's all we're going to have and until the both of us realize that nothing will ever change. And I need to change it."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before stepping in front of her. "Bonnie, you are the most important person in my life…"

"Damon…"

"Just listen to me for a second. I've lived a long life and I haven't always made a ton of great decisions but the best decision I've ever made was falling in love with you. And when I say I love you, I'm not saying it because I want you or because I can't have you. I say it because its the truth_._ I love who you are. What you do. How you can make a way out no way. And I love your unfailing ability to bring down my ass a peg or two or five. I've seen your kindness and your strength. We've seen the best and the worst of each other; you're my missing half. You're the love of my life, Bonnie Bennett."

She smiled nervously. Bonnie had heard similar confessions like this in the past, and they all touched the deep places of her heart, places several men in her history had tried to ignite and failed horribly. But he didn't. Bonnie should have known she didn't stand a chance the first time they laid eyes on one another and she read him his Miranda Rights on why he would lose the South Carolina primary. And from that introductory speech they spiraled down a hopeless slope of forbidden love, unbridled passion, and the best toe-curling, paint melting, heart attack inducing sex in either of their lives.

"Mr. President…" Bonnie blushed and looked down. Damon tipped her chin up boring into her chartreuse eyes.

"Say it again."

"Mr. President."

"You're not leaving me. I know a resignation speech when I hear one."

Bonnie wanted to stare up at him stupefied but couldn't. He knew her too well and what should have been disconcerting only made that love she was trying to wrestle into a cage burst apart like a piñata and override her common sense.

"I'm not yours," she painfully reminded him. Her eyes dropped to the platinum band on his ring finger.

Damon couldn't argue the point, but did say, "You're mine in every way that matters."

"Everyway that matters?" Bonnie questioned heatedly. "How many times have we gone jogging around The Mall? How many times have you picked me up from my apartment, taken me to dinner, to plays, to movies? How many times have we just wasted entire weekends working on crossword puzzles or watching mind-numbing television? How many times have you held my hand in public, or kissed me whenever you entered a room? How many times have you told me you love me while the cameras are rolling and the lights are flashing? How many holidays have we spent together? How many times have we danced together at public and private balls? How many times have you sat at my grandmother's table and shared war stories? How many times have we simply just been a couple in love, Mr. President? How many?"

The only sound to be heard was the traffic flying down Pennsylvania Avenue and the crickets. A sea of crickets.

"I've helped give you the world, Damon. What have you given me? Words."

"It's not like that! I want to give you me! All of me! Every single last fucking drop of me, Bonnie! I was willing to give up this whole thing for you! But you spurred me on, told me that the nation needed someone like me in office, and I listened to you although deep in my gut I didn't want it with a tenth of the passion as I wanted you! You think I want this? You think I want to keep what we have a secret from the whole fucking world? I would love nothing more than to wake up next to you everyday, to hold your hand, take you out on dates, kiss you whenever I feel like it, meet your family and not be followed around like a criminal all the time. I don't want to just give you _words_, Bonnie. I want to give you my soul, my last name. I want _you _to have my babies."

Tears slipped from between her eyelashes and down her cheeks. Licking her lips, Bonnie took a deep breath before looking up at Damon's enraged face. He was always beautiful to her, far more than ordinary handsome. His face alone is what really won him the election. Not the policies he wanted to introduce; or his promises of tax cuts and affordable healthcare. It was his pale skin, glowing cobalt eyes, ink-black hair, devilish mouth, swimmer's physique, and boyish charm that won him the highest seat in the land.

Settling his hands on her shoulders before sliding them up to cup her cheeks, Damon continued, "I know you're in a terrible position and I'm at fault. I'm the one that's married. I'm the one that's President, but none of that matters to me. I'll march in that office and I'll resign right this second. I'll tell Rosalie I want a divorce if you agree to marry me."

"Damon," Bonnie had to work overtime to hide her shock yet also her excitement. She knew this was nothing more than wishful thinking on both their parts. "You're not being rational. You can't just quit during the first year of your presidency. You have so much good you can accomplish and I can't allow you to throw it all away especially not over me. I won't do it. I won't _let _you do it either."

Damon sighed. "You're missing the point."

"No, I'm not. Do you think that's what I want for you?"

President Salvatore took a step away from his Press Secretary. "So this is it? Your plan all along was just to screw me into the Oval? You don't love me?"

Bonnie's nostrils flared. "How dare you! You're thinking with the wrong head, Mr. _President,_" she retorted snidely. "We've all had to sacrifice something to get you elected, and if you resign your actions will be like spitting into the faces of each person in your campaign, and also the American people. Four years, Damon."

"I can't wait that long. I'll murder someone if I have to live another second without you, Bonnie."

"This is getting us absolutely nowhere."

"Agreed," Damon took her by the hips and then pushed her up against the nearest tree. He wedged his knee between her thighs to widen them and make room for himself.

Their arguments, as tiresome as they could be sometimes, were always the match to his libido. He had an unhealthy obsession with this woman, his campaign fixer who was now his Press Secretary. He had offered her the position the moment he won the election because the idea of letting Bonnie Bennett slither away into obscurity and resume her role as being a junior partner at a Virginia law firm was unacceptable. He needed her, wanted her, craved her, and was willing to offer her a seven figure salary just to tempt her to stay. He knew it was never about the money or the benefits to Bonnie. She _lived_ for this life, this was her drug—thinking and formulating solutions on her feet. She was probably a better politician than him. So when he and Klaus Mikaelson, his Chief of Staff were reading through resumes trying to pick the right staff Bonnie was at the top of their lists, but for obviously different reasons.

Bonnie's hands tightened around the lapels of his jacket. She hated him but she loved him. Loved the way he made her feel. She came alive whenever she was in the same vicinity as President Damon Salvatore. When they were forced into separation, Bonnie took on project after project just to give her racing mind something to do, to keep her thoughts away from Damon and seeing him in all his naked glory. They broke several constitutional laws whenever they were alone like this.

She hissed the second his lips made contact with her throat, his tongue drawing lazy designs against her hot flesh before taking her mouth. Bonnie became liquefied and evaporated as his tongue darted in and out before circling hers. Blood rushed everywhere and she allowed it to continue until she heard Damon trying to unbuckle his belt.

"Damon, please don't do this," Bonnie broke their kiss.

"I need you, Bonnie," he stared at her imploringly. "I need you. You can't leave me."

"If I stay…I can't…I'll lose myself. I already have. I don't sleep."

"Neither do I."

"I can't focus when we're not together."

"It's the same for me, too. I know you hate this, the sneaking around like we're a bunch of teenagers, but…other than me resigning there's no way for this to work."

"I know," Bonnie pushed him away. "That's why this needs to end."

Damon shook his head. "I can't stop. We've gone too far to stop."

Bonnie pushed down her pencil skirt. "But it's not too late for us to turn things around. You're going to be the president that America needs, and I'm too much of a distraction, a liability."

"Stop coming up with excuses. I'm a grown man. I can control myself."

"Oh, really?" Bonnie pointedly stared at the tent in his pants giving her a salute.

Damon smiled sheepishly. "I can't help it if _he _has a mind or agenda of his own," he sobered. "Bonnie, please just…I know I shouldn't ask for this, but give me—_us_ more time."

"More time for what?"

President Salvatore had no earthly clue. He needed more time to convince her to stay on board, to not give up what they had. If he had to pull every dirty trick in the book, he'd do it. He wasn't against using emotional blackmail to get his way.

Just as he was about to answer a third party joined them. "Ah, it's the dynamic duo."

Bonnie and Damon jumped out of their skins as they turned to face the Chief of Staff.

"Klaus…I was just going over some…negotiations with Miss Bennett. Did you need something?"

A knowing grin displayed on Klaus' face. "Yes, Cairo's Prime Minister is on the phone."

Damon nodded his head. "Give us a minute. I'll be in my office shortly."

Klaus volleyed between staring at his boss and his protégé before pivoting on his heels and marching off.

Bonnie's heart didn't resume its normal beat until she felt the coast was clear. "That is why this needs to stop."

Damon violated her personal space again and traced her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Getting caught is apart of the fun," he kissed her slowly, languidly until Bonnie was clutching on to him for dear life. When he pulled away and saw the glaze to her eyes which were half-lidded he knew for the moment she wasn't going anywhere. He had just bought himself some more time. A week at the most but it would be a week she'd definitely remember. "I'll see you in the morning."

Damon walked off without waiting for her reply. Bonnie watched him as she drew her tongue over her lip.

"I'll see you in the morning…Mr. President."

The end.

**A/N: If Damon was ever elected president then God help us. If you watch Scandal, like I do, this might have read more Olitz than Bamon so apologies on that end. But a reader had asked me if I thought about doing a Scandal based Bamon and I said it might have been difficult to sell because who can take Damon seriously as president, but the idea did intrigue me. Unfortunately at the time I was still working pretty hardcore on Think Twice and didn't want to add another big project to my plate. I made changes and swapped out Allison from Teen Wolf with Rosalie Hale from Twilight to be Damon's wife. But let me know what you think about it. Love you guys! Thank you so much for reading! **


	2. Bombshell

**A/N: The masses have spoken! I was not expecting the kind of response I got so thank you all so much! Happy Inauguration/MLK Day my fellow Americans, and hello to my readers who are living abroad. All right so this story wouldn't leave me alone and I've decided to develop it into a multi-chapter fic. Here is the latest. Enjoy!**

***I decided to swap out Allison with Rosalie and I'm not incorporating anything supernatural in this***

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Washington, DC**

Damon wasn't paying a lick of attention yet sat with his legs crossed, Presidential dossier in his hand, yet his eyes kept flicking towards the door of the Oval Office waiting for it to open and for _her _to arrive. He was normally very good at masking his inner turmoil, but today he was slipping because Klaus had already given him several quizzical looks to which Damon diplomatically ignored. Instead, he cleared his throat, sat up a little straighter in his chair and tried to listen to some of his military and congressional leaders discuss for the millionth time on how to handle boarder patrol in Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico due to the insurgence of drug cartels in Northern Mexico.

However, all Damon really heard was the sound of Charlie Brown's teacher's voice sounding off in his head. He wanted to take a break, stop this insipid meeting, and have one of the interns or aides find Bonnie and drag her kicking and screaming back here.

No matter what came out of her mouth, even if it made sense, she couldn't leave. She couldn't abandon him because if she left everyone would expect him to run the country.

Damon didn't have time for that.

He was in love it seemed for the very first time in his life. Part of him did feel guilty as hell for feeling the way he did for a woman he didn't swear vows to. When he looked at Rosalie, at her beautiful face and those dimples and her wavy blonde hair, all he saw was just a woman, a shell. He married her out of convenience, because everyone expected him to. She came from the right family, had the right connections, she was the perfect help mate in every way.

Except one.

Damon believed in hell and he lived it each and every single day he was forced to live without Bonnie, or forced to remember he was leader of the free world and they could never be anything more than colleagues. He hated the fact she was single and some guy could magically sprout from the ground, swoop in and take her from him.

He growled lowly in his throat because he was behaving like he was whipped, and he was that in more ways than one. Bonnie had reduced him to some kind of sentimental sycophant. He didn't always used to be this way.

There was a point in his life where he said the first thing to pop into his head and it wasn't always nice. There was a time where he enjoyed hurting people's feelings, smiting their self-confidence and esteem, got off on making people quake with fear, and living life on the edge.

But those days were over—partly. And he only had one person to blame for that.

Since he wasn't listening to a single thing being said, Damon decided now was a good time to daydream.

**One year ago…**

The smartly dressed crowd stood in clusters of small and large groups holding champagne flutes in their hands, enjoying the imported food that was flown in from various parts of the world, mixing, mingling, and slowly getting inebriated with the sophisticated atmosphere.

In the thick of it all was Senator Damon Salvatore dressed in head-to-toe tailored Armani looking more like a movie star than a politician. And that was the way he preferred it. Who wouldn't want to vote for a man who could wear the hell out of suit, and Damon knew it was said that a man in a good suit was like lingerie to women. And women had always been a tough crowd for candidates to sway.

Damon was neither Republican nor Democrat although he may have shared the same views on some pertinent issues, but he had been a trailblazer his entire life, always tried to find ingenious ways to stand out from the crowd, so he became the Independent Party's incumbent.

However, he was way behind in the polls, was almost considered inconsequential to the two main candidates in the aforementioned parties.

He stood as part of a circle of fellow endorsers who believed he could take the White House and paint it red. He was amongst friends and sympathizers and could relax and have fun with the monotonous rhetoric he was expected to spew on command when facing the crowd and cameras.

Right now he was taking part of a mock interview by two of his favorite investigative journalists who had years of interviewing under their belts.

Taking a sip of Cristal to wet his tongue, Damon kept his laser sharp blue-eyed gaze on the petite redhead whose cheeks nearly matched the color of her hair.

"Senator Salvatore, what do you say to critics when they say that you haven't taken a strong enough stand on the wars currently taking place in the Middle East? Do you believe there should still be a strong presence of American soldiers or should withdrawal commence?"

Damon smirked. "I'm for against it."

There were polite snickers and chortles around.

"Do you think amnesty should be given to law-abiding illegal immigrants?" asked the blonde journalists who had been giving him discreet moon eyes all night.

"I've always been told to turn the other cheek and look the other way."

Klaus who said nothing, only stood with his arms folded could do nothing but shake his head.

"Is it your belief that in order to balance the economy, bailouts should be given to big banks?"

"Never add more water to a sinking ship," Damon quipped and finished off the rest of his champagne.

"On a serious note…why do you think you should be President of the United States?"

Damon paused dramatically before answering. "Because I'm pretty."

The spectators were amused by his quick wit and felt as far as entertainment went Damon was on top of the hierarchy. But it would take more than telling colorful anecdotes at the drop of a dime for him to win the presidency.

"That's why you're going to lose the election."

That voice, not coming from anyone standing in front of him, caught not only Damon's attention, but everyone's attention. The crowd parted to reveal a woman draped in canary yellow chiffon that billowed around her frame, accompanied by thick chocolate hair that fell in waves brushed to the side of her caramel hued neck. But it was her eyes, a deep shade of green that bulldozed him.

Those standing around looked at the woman then Damon before looking at the woman again waiting for something to happen.

"Excuse me?" Damon finally muttered.

"You're going to lose this election because you believe being good looking compensates for your shortcomings. Being the witty pretty boy is all good if you're running for the Senate or the House, but when it comes to the Presidency, no one is interested in seeing how you can take serious issues that were just discussed and turn it into a joke. Appearances may play a small role in who gets elected because lets face it this is a superficial world we live in. Bob Doyle lost because he looked like he had one foot in the grave, and McCain could have been someone's great-grandfather for all people knew. People want to like who they're voting for and they want a candidate who is going to take their issues to heart, but you won't get a pass when it comes to back alley brawl politics on charm and looks alone. You'll get slaughtered. Someone will write you an awesome eulogy while you leave a good-looking corpse behind. If you want this, if you want to win you might want to stop leaning on your looks because all people see is another sad Ken doll with nothing better to do."

Eyes darted from one face to another feeling slightly embarrassed for the Senator who looked as if he wanted to strangle and/or kiss the woman standing several feet away from him.

It took a minute for Damon to regain his composure. He was used to people telling him that he smelled himself from time-to-time but those had been people he knew. Not total strangers dressed in canary yellow chiffon with a heart shaped face that was ridiculously stunning.

"Who the fuck are you?" was the first thing to pop into his head and came out of his mouth.

The woman straightened her spine and briefly diverted her eyes to Klaus who tried to appear indifferent yet came off as proud.

The woman brought those viridian eyes back to Damon. "Bonnie…Bennett."

He would remember the name.

Just as Damon was about the dig in her ass about what grassroots organization she was working for, Klaus moved beyond the circle and approached the interloper.

"And I thought you said there was something I could work with," Damon heard her say and again fire and something else coursed through him.

"Just give him time and he'll show you that's he worth it," Klaus refaced Damon, dimples flashing. "Do you remember when I was telling you that I knew someone who could help turn this campaign around? Well here she is."

"I don't care. I'm nobody's charity chase or class project. Just get rid of her."

Bonnie's eyes narrowed. No one had dismissed her like she was trash in her entire life, not even her father when she royally screwed up which thankfully hadn't been all that often.

Damon turned his back and began to head off. He stepped out of the elegant ballroom at the luxurious resort where his fundraising dinner was being held. He had no idea why what she said got under his skin. Maybe it was the fact she used the words slaughter and corpse, but people had said worse things to him, but maybe it had something to do with the fact that she voiced his deep insecurity about himself. That no matter what he did or tried to achieve no one would ever take him seriously.

He headed the men's room to splash water on his face. When he came out he spotted her waiting by the bank of elevators.

No matter how far or distant he saw her, there was just something about her that held his attention. He was almost afraid to blink and Damon chided himself for his ridiculousness. He had been surrounded by beautiful women his entire life, could have the pick of the liter, but he was letting this slip of a woman control his thoughts just from a two-minute conversation. She should be irrelevant to him, but…

Stuffing his hands in his pockets he strolled over to Bonnie. He knew her name meant beautiful and it aptly applied to her.

Bonnie shifted when she sensed someone was standing behind her. When she saw it was the Senator she gave nothing off, although to her annoyance something akin to butterflies began to shoot off in her belly.

"What you said…" Damon began but he was instantly cut off.

"I know what I said may have sounded harsh but what do you really think people are saying about you in the press? Do you know how many Independent candidates has become President?"

"None," Damon answered with a roll of his eyes. "With the exception of George Washington, but he doesn't exactly count."

"Right so you'll only carry on the tradition in that regard. Sucks to be you."

"You think I don't hear that shit every single day of my life?" Damon raised his voice and then looked around. "I know people think I'm only doing this because I'm bored, but I honestly want this."

"Really?" Bonnie questioned skeptically. "Why? So you can ride on Air Force One?"

"That and change lives, impact change."

"Sounds nice but its nothing different from what we've all heard before. Figure out your stance on the issues, make your own policy, and take the aggressive approach to getting your voice heard. Or otherwise you'll just be another jaded trust fund baby who thought running for president would be cool."

Damon snorted but couldn't disagree. "Look, we got off on the wrong foot."

"Wasn't my intention but Klaus always advised me to make a splash."

"That you did," he smiled.

Bonnie blinked and then shook her head. It was already difficult to look at him and remain objective but with him smiling it was like watching a sculpture come to life.

Bonnie found her voice again, "I guess I should have gone a little easier on you back there," she shrugged sheepishly. "This is a fundraising event not a debate."

"Yeah, you should have. So are you going to apologize?"

Bonnie's jaw dropped in incredulity.

Damon was tempted to press her lips back together, and that's when he noticed that they were in the shape of an archer's bow. Not only that but they glistened as if she had bitten into a juicy cantaloupe.

Damon cleared his throat, "If I want to become president I need to take it more seriously. My dashing good looks will only take me so far. Do you honestly think you can help me win?"

Bonnie lifted a brow—haughtily in the air. "Only if you really want it. If you do then I promise to eat, breathe, and live Senator Damon Salvatore."

Something about that went straight to his dick and not his head.

The chime of the elevator arriving on their floor interrupted the weird vibe between them. Bonnie looked at it over her shoulder before returning her attention to Damon.

"You should get back to your event," Bonnie advised and turned to board the elevator.

Impulsively Damon reached out to stop her but his fingers brushed down her spine touching her bare skin either accidentally or purposely.

Bonnie stiffened because something like an electric spark raised the hairs on her back, halting her movements, impaired her speech, made blood rush to her ears magnifying her heart beat where the sound of it was all she could hear.

When she turned to face Damon he looked as if he was being effected just the same. His touch made certain erogenous zones pebble and hardened. Made her mouth dry only because she wondered for a fleeting second if he could inspire the same kind of reaction if he touched her in other places.

A simple touch shouldn't have made Damon feel like he could snap a brick in half with his dick, but he probably could because that's how hard he was. He barely touched her! But if he could get away with it, he'd throw her down right here. This woman, whoever she was, was dangerous.

But Damon had a special affinity for danger.

"Klaus was right," Damon spoke as if he were in a trance. "I do need you…"

**Present time**

Damon was positive that Klaus purposely called Bonnie in like some kind of Trojan horse to knock him off his game, to make him crazy for her. He wouldn't put it past his Chief of Staff to have orchestrated the whole thing because he was a bit of a control freak and liked to know the outcome before something happened. He was efficient at his job, Damon could certainly give the man credit for that, but naturally Klaus was a little too high-handed for his liking.

The door opened by the Marine guard who's job was to remain posted outside of the Oval. Damon looked up and felt the tightness in his chest ebb away as Bonnie entered the room looking savvy in her two-piece skirt suit. It was the deep plum one that complimented her peach tone. Quickly he scanned the rest of her as she took her seat and crossed her legs to reveal a pair of studded stilettos that definitely weren't government issued.

Already his filthy mind was imagining mounting her on the desk as she wore nothing but those shoes and a smile.

Damon shifted in his chair to hide the evidence of his thoughts.

"Sorry I'm late everyone. Good morning."

Bonnie flashed Damon a smile and noticed it was more forced than usual. She was letting him know in her own way that little had changed between them. As soon as she could she was going to resign. That made Damon want to bounce out of his seat and adjourn this meeting so he can give her a hundred and one reasons—mainly strokes—on why she should stick around.

The meeting continued for another two hours before Klaus dismissed everyone for lunch. As the gathering filed out of the room, Bonnie took her time packing up her materials.

"Hello, First Lady," General McCaddy greeted Rosalie.

Bonnie paused briefly in stuffing papers back into her portfolio and watched as Rosalie swept into the room making a beeline for Damon. Rising to her feet and hoping to make a discreet exit to avoid having to exchange pleasantries, Bonnie found herself unable to move. She was too busy watching as Rosalie walked into Damon's arms who planted a kiss on her temple, not the place Rosalie wanted to be kissed, but she would accept it seeing they weren't completely alone.

It became difficult for Bonnie to swallow and she had to remind her lungs to expand and retract so she could breathe.

Damon hated moments like this were he had to pretend to be the doting husband everyone thought he was, and especially thought it was sleazy to do so in front of Bonnie who kind of resembled a deer caught in headlights. He hated seeing that pained look on her face and diverted his attention back to Rosalie because she saying something, but he had no idea what she was talking about.

Damon sat down on the edge of his desk. "I'm sorry, honey what did you say?"

Rosalie placed her hands on her hips. "I was saying that I wanted to see you before I headed off to Emerson Preparatory. But before I go I was wondering if you think it would be a good idea to arrange for a visit to speak with the CEO's of some of the larger oil conglomerates. People are getting fed up with spending half of their salary just to put gas in their cars, and this might ease things a bit if they see you putting in a concerted effort to save them money at the pump."

This was something Damon had found cute about Rosalie in the very early days of his presidency but now it got on his last fucking nerve. Rosalie really believed that running the country was a joint venture between the two of them, but it wasn't. Damon had an equipped staff to deal with the day-to-day operation of the country. He didn't need advice from his wife. Or suggestions for that matter. Besides he had Bonnie.

Bonnie noticed that Damon was two seconds from going off. She had spent more than enough time with him to know that when he got that cold look in his eyes your feelings were about to be destroyed.

"Pardon the interruption, First Lady but how are the plans coming along for the Correspondents Dinner?"

Rosalie reluctantly tore her gaze away from Damon to look at Bonnie. "I'm glad you brought that up because there have been some discrepancies with the guest list. I swear if people knew how to do their _jobs _it would make mine a lot easier."

"We can go over them, I have time."

Rosalie smiled at Bonnie before giving Damon a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Before leaving the office, Bonnie looked over her shoulder at Damon who puckered his lips and blew her a kiss.

* * *

The words were running together and she was starting to feel tightness in her neck and a slight pounding behind her eyes. She had been at this for hours, fighting against fatigue, and loneliness, not wanting to call it a night and head home to her apartment in Adams Morgan. Besides what was waiting for her there? Leftovers and a cold empty bed.

Biting the corner of her lip, Bonnie slipped her legs off the couch in her office and checked the time on her watch. It was forty-five minutes to a new day. Burning the midnight oil yet again and she knew why she was hesitating in turning off the light and going home.

She was waiting.

Her actions reeked of desperation. Bonnie wasn't a settler. She didn't believe in taking what you could get anyway you could get it. That wasn't how she was raised, yet here she was working for the best organization in the world and yet she couldn't pack her dignity up and go home.

Her phone rang which startled her. Bonnie got up from the couch to answer it already knowing who was on the other line. She had dismissed her staff to go home hours ago. No one else except several secret service agents and the janitorial staff were still up. Bonnie suspected Klaus was probably pouring over files and other briefing materials but at least he was home in Arlington doing so.

Picking up the receiver, Bonnie kept her voice neutral. "Bonnie Bennett." She listened as she was given a set of instructions.

Hanging up, Bonnie slipped her manicured feet back into her new Marc Jacobs pumps and made her way to the West Wing.

Just in the off chance he wasn't alone, Bonnie knocked on the door and heard a muffled "Enter" sound from the other side. Bonnie did so but then braced her back against the wall, hands behind her back.

Damon swiveled his chair around. Bonnie noticed his tie was gone and the sleeves of his pale blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows. She watched the corded muscles underneath his pale skin flex as he tossed his Mont Blanc fountain pen on the credenza and then braced his hands on the arms of the chair, pushing himself to his feet.

Damon walked around the large mahogany desk and stopped right in the center of the Presidential seal.

"You've been avoiding me all day."

Bonnie dropped her eyes to the lint free carpet underneath her feet. "I've been busy, Mr. President. Diffusing one situation after another. Sorry I didn't have time for eye-fucking and innuendo."

Damon's chest expanded as he slid his hands deep in his pockets. He nodded his head. "About what we were discussing last night…have you changed your mind?"

"We can't talk about that here."

"There's no place we can talk about this, but talking isn't what I'm interested in doing. Come here."

Bonnie didn't budge. She instead pointed upward reminding him of the camera imbedded in the middle of the ceiling.

"Then I'll come to you," Damon approached with that predatory look in his eyes that immediately made Bonnie's heart take off.

Bonnie slithered away just as he reached her, before he could touch her and cremate her resolve. Things happened when they touched. They didn't give birth to foreign policy that was for sure, but a bipartisan agreement of sorts did take place.

"If you want me to stay then you're going to have to stop that," Bonnie told him. "You know what we're doing can get you impeached."

"Please spare me another lecture. If you really, honestly wanted this to stop then you wouldn't have picked up your phone, and you wouldn't be standing here now. You can try to run from all this you want, Bonnie. You can try to hide behind policy and ethics, but face it, like me you don't want to let this go. You can't," Damon admitted poignantly. He held out a hand. "Just come here. I need to show you something."

Her hesitation was brief but Bonnie accepted Damon's offer. He avoided the scope of the camera as he led her back to his desk and then without letting go of her hand, he picked up a manila envelope and passed it to Bonnie.

She took it and stared up at him questioningly. Bonnie opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. Her eyes zoomed over the literature before they widened and she gawked at Damon again.

"Are these…?"

"Divorce papers. I had my lawyer drum them up late last night. He wasn't happy about it but I kindly reminded him of who signed his checks."

That feeling of hope cracked a fissure within Bonnie. He was being perfectly serious, and as much as she may have wanted to moonwalk across the Oval, she couldn't. This wouldn't be easy. No President had ever divorced his wife. And no First Lady even when she became aware of her husband's infidelity ever walked out on her marriage. Damon surely wanted to set a bunch of precedents that was for sure, but it was difficult for Bonnie to look past the backlash to his approval rating this could cause if he moved forward with this, and focus on what this meant.

That he really wanted to be with her. That he wasn't simply using her as a jump-off.

"You want to say my actions are defrauding the American people, but continuing on in my loveless marriage how is that any better? I lie every time I give an interview about how much Rosalie means to me, how much I love her, and sure I do in my own way, but I'm not _in _love with her. I'm in love with you, Bonnie and I want you to be my wife."

In this moment Bonnie couldn't have felt anymore like Anne Boleyn and you know what happened to her.

As noble as Damon probably thought his actions were they were the complete and total opposite. They were selfish. He wasn't thinking about the future, thinking ahead. Tempering his impulsive nature had been the hardest obstacle they had to overcome on the campaign trail. But at least he had arrived at a point where he looked before he took a leap over the cliff.

No one would simply look the other way if he replaced Rosalie with her like he merely exchanged a coat for a better one. People would count back to when their relationship started. The pieces would fall into alignment and they would be dealing with the fallout of having elected another Bill Clinton into office. There would be no clean way to spin this where their reputations, integrity, and credibility came out unscathed. Bonnie would be labeled an adulterous whore, Damon a gigolo. Doors would be shut to them; they'd be shunned by their friends and fed to their enemies. Bonnie would have no choice but to assume a new identity because no one would ever want to hire her or take her on if this ever became public knowledge.

In the thirty seconds or so Bonnie had absorbed this, those thoughts had run through her mind. She placed the papers on the desk.

Damon kept careful watch of her reaction. He wasn't sure what to feel since her face revealed nothing of what she might be thinking. But if he knew her, and he knew her pretty damn good, he would say Bonnie wasn't pleased with this. Not at all.

He tilted her chin up and swooped in to smother her lips.

Bonnie pulled away. "You divorce Rosalie simply because you have a boner for your Press Secretary and you will be crucified. The people love Rosalie. She's soft-spoken, she's smart, she reminds everyone of their best friend. Unless she's an S&M mistress sleeping with half of the cabinet there's no way anyone would-,"

Damon kissed her again to silence her tirade. She must really believe he's an idiot if she thought he hadn't considered all the variables in how this would make him out to be a villain and Rosalie a saint. Damon could really give a damn on what people thought of him. He did what he felt and right now he was feeling horny. And desperate.

He maneuvered Bonnie until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the desk. Cupping her cheek, Damon began to arch Bonnie over the desk while his right hand worked to pull her silk blouse free of her skirt. He was done arguing with her. They belonged together although mitigating circumstances spoke of the contrary.

Damon stopped kissing her. "Do you love me?"

It took a moment for Bonnie to remember exactly where she was. Any time Damon's lips touched hers her brain went haywire. "Yes."

"I need to hear you say it."

"I love you, Damon."

"Then trust me to take care of everything. This isn't your problem to fix, but mine. Now...let me take care of _you_," he winked and sank to his haunches.

Damon slid his hands up Bonnie's bare legs. They disappeared under the hem of her pencil skirt as he grabbed the waistband of her panties and worked them down.

Bonnie lifted her feet to step out of her underwear and watched as Damon sniffed them before stuffing them in his pocket. She cocked her head to the side in slight reproach.

"I'll give them back. I promise."

Bonnie didn't believe that, only continued to stare down at Damon as he began to push her skirt up to cinch her waist.

Then to her horror the door had to open.

"Damon I have…"

Damon immediately got to his feet, spun around and planted himself in front of Bonnie to shield her as she hastily began to fix her clothes.

"Rosalie…" Damon tried to stall and think of a believable lie for why he was kneeling in front of his Press Secretary with his hands on her thighs.

Rosalie stared, dubiously at her husband and failed to notice that the small plastic applicator she held in her hand fell to the floor. Tears sprung and welled up in her eyes.

"Rosalie, I can explain."

Damon gulped and waited for Rosalie to lose control, fly across the room and try to scratch his eyes out. Instead he watched her face change color from flaming red, to white, to purple, before it settled on pastel pink.

"You asshole," Rosalie whispered. "You asshole!"

Bonnie knew better than to speak but she couldn't resist the urge to take responsibility for this.

"I figured you were cheating on me but not with _her_," Rosalie raged but then she swallowed. "Hate to burst your bubble, Damon but you're going to be a father. I'll leave you and your _secretary _to finish what you were doing."

Rosalie fled the room slamming the door in her wake.

Damon stood frozen. Father? Him? Now? When he was so close to having everything he wanted? His eyes dropped to the pregnancy test on the floor. Life couldn't be this cruel.

Oh, but it was.

Chapter end.

**A/N: As they say, the plot thickens. I'm still trying to flesh out Damon and Bonnie's characters which I didn't think it would be this hard to keep them in character and not bleed into Olitz territory. If it happens, and it probably will just go with the flow. Remember this is only a story. Klaus' POV is coming up. So I guess the questions that need to be asked now are: Is it really Damon's baby? Does this spell the end for Bamon? What's going to happen next? Hope you guys enjoyed this. Until next time, love you!**


	3. All Roads Don't Lead to Gold

**A/N: I have to say thank you once again for the overwhelming response last chapter generated! You guys are awesome. In my last A/N I said I was still deciding whether to make this a supernatural AU fic, and I've decided to keep this all-human. So if you were hoping for that edge, sorry. The story is already complicated enough as is. If that's going to be a problem…well you know what you can do. For those who are interested in seeing how this puppy plays out, please by all means read on. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

"_Welcome to my home."_

_They've taken a pause from the campaign trail to enjoy Fourth of July weekend. It's just the two of them alone at one of his homes in North Carolina. He invited her here under the pretense of starting the second leg of their journey, but that wasn't the real reason. _

_He wanted her. Plain and simple. _

_Working long days and nights and never talking about anything personal had finally gotten to him. He gives her a tour of the house but he's done stalling._

_Damon, while holding Bonnie's hand, leads her upstairs to his room, occasionally turning to face her, silently asking if she's sure she wants to do this. Bonnie periodically bites her lower lip as the only outward sign of her apprehension about what's about to occur._

_Still holding her hand, he leads the way to his bedroom. Damon opens the door, it swings revealing a huge, fantasy-come-to-life bed. Underneath his eagerness, he's nervous because he doesn't want to come on too strong. He doesn't want to scare Bonnie, ultimately changing her mind because he's sure he's never going to get this opportunity again._

_To his senses she's new. He's touched his fair share of arms, legs, stomachs, necks, thighs, but this is Bonnie who has always been in a category of her own, has stood out amongst the multitude. The pressure is thick and heavy on his shoulders because he wants her approval, but above that he wants her trust._

_He'll go slow—if it will make her comfortable although that wasn't in his nature. To move with caution. He liked speed, but Damon knows that if he pushes too hard, Bonnie will push back. The moment will be ruptured._

_Bonnie for her part is extremely nervous and trying not to feel self-conscious. She typically has confidence, but with Damon she becomes more than just the fixer. She becomes a woman perfectly capable of reducing a man to ash. He challenges her at every step, but in this situation she realizes she has total control. Damon will follow her lead, and ideally Bonnie has no idea what she wants to happen. She just wants to feel loved, protected, but above all of that chosen._

_What she doesn't know is that Damon shares those same desires. Women have made him feel needed—at least on the physical level—but the emotional he was always left hanging. So sex to him was never anything more than placating boredom or working out his frustrations with a situation that he lost control of._

_They don't say anything. Their usual snark has no place in this moment. They've both been guilty of using humor and sarcasm to cover up their underlining issues with each other and with themselves. Being raw is not something they fundamentally enjoy. They avoid it, run from it. They can't do it now. _

_But he's willing for the first time it seems, to take the plunge with Bonnie. She has far more power over him than she realizes, yet he's uncertain if he wants to make Bonnie aware of that._

_Her body goes through all the typical physiological signs associated with nervousness. Her heart feels like its palpitating, her muscles shake, and her neck tenses. She's wondering if she's making a mistake. But when she looks up at Damon she can tell he's on the same emotional cruise liner as she is. Bonnie doesn't feel so alone anymore. _

_Her nervousness is not completely gone just by one single look from Damon. In fact it increases. They have to be careful because anything could shatter this moment, and then they're crash landing back to reality. The reality being Damon's married and this shouldn't be happening._

_Bonnie gets a righteous kick from her conscience. She should be the rational one and ask him to take her back to her hotel, but she finds it hard to say what should be said. To do the right thing._

_Being with him feels right even if it is so morally wrong._

_Damon takes the time to appreciate Bonnie for who she is. She's very delicate—body wise, but her inner strength appeals to him. He loves the color of her skin and its contrast against his. Her eyes hold him prisoner making it almost impossible to look away at times. Her curved mouth, he's dreamt of its taste. _

_Very slowly, he pulls her forward and just holds her tightly against his body. Bonnie wraps her arms around him, while Damon's hands massages her back. Minutes pass when Bonnie pulls away slightly to stare up at him. Silently they agree now is the time to kiss. In tiny increments, Damon's head lowers, clearing the space. _

_His lips are surprisingly soft, Bonnie thinks in the back of her mind. He doesn't take her mouth in a forceful kiss. He wants to enjoy it. He's soft and teasing, adding pressure and easing up, separating enough so Bonnie could take in a tiny breath of air. The inferno is a slow build. First there's heat, then steam, before lava rushes forth. Bonnie's skin puckers and then she's sweltering. When the rough texture of his tongue glides across her own, an involuntary whimper escapes her mouth. It's a dance she hasn't done in a long time. She's clumsy and wonders if she's doing it right. If he likes it. _

_Damon's hands fall to remove her top. His fingers come into contact with her bare arms. She's impossibly soft. Feeling a little bit of boldness, Bonnie reaches for the hem of his shirt, and pulls it up and off revealing his washboard stomach. Bonnie stares down at his torso, at his olive skin. She touches him for the first time. Tracing his abs, circling his navel, before running her finger over the button of his jeans. Damon stands there observing her while she observes him, locking how he feels and what he looks like into memory._

_When she looks up at him, she's amazed he's not smiling down on her cockily. In fact he looks as if he's waiting to be rejected._

"_You're beautiful," she tells him and Damon gets the sense she's not talking about his physical appearance._

_He's heard that sentence so many times in the past he's almost come to immediately disregard it, but hearing it from Bonnie makes his heart sputter in his chest. He kisses her hard, recklessly, giving in to old habits. Bonnie returns his kiss with equal fervor before breaking off again. She swallows timidly, and unbuttons his jeans, lowers the zipper. _

_There's nothing more intimate in the world than to be thought of as beautiful by the woman you love. _

_Damon brushes her hair off her shoulders and replaces it with kisses that ignite her skin, renews her passion._

_A craze is building on the inside of him when he reaches her breasts. He cups them in his hands, flicking the pad of his thumbs over her peaks, enticing them. He wants to feel her in his mouth, wants to know what she tastes like. So he lowers a strap of her bra, revealing her breast. A quarter- sized areola comes into view, and he circles it with his tongue until the tip is as erect as he is. _

_Bonnie's head falls back as she sinks her fingers into his mane. An inhuman noise erupts from her when he switches over to her neglected breast and the next thing Bonnie feels is the bed under her, supporting her._

_It's like something in Damon snaps and he quickly gets her out of her jeans and his. But he pauses in his excitement long enough to peel her underwear off with his teeth. Once she's completely bare before him, he just looks at her, his gaze as real as a touch and her body vibrates with anticipation. Her breath is coming out too quickly and her eyes volley between his translucent orbs to that proud part of him—thick, heavy, veined, and hard. _

_His prick oozes a bit of precum and she can't help but rub it on her forefinger and slip it into her mouth._

_Damon can't swallow. He can't even think straight. The heat of her body, her center is too much so he lowers himself between her legs and using the tip of his nose separates her wet folds. His tongue takes over pushing Bonnie right to the edges of ecstasy but he falls back._

_Bonnie makes a sound of complaint and her eyes open lazily. She's angry, Damon can tell and tries to make up for it by placing that infamous lopsided grin on his face. _

"_I'm going to take my time with you," he tells her. "I'm going to swallow every groan, every moan, every last drop of cum your body makes."_

_She's even wetter than before, so much Bonnie can feel herself soaking the bed. "Please, Damon."_

_He hikes her legs around his waist and positions the head of his dick right at her opening and then painfully slow he enters her. _

_His back becomes her nail filer. She's holding him tight everywhere. His shoulders, his thighs, his little big soldier. And she feels so good that he almost shoots off his load way before he's ready. _

_Damon begins to move inches at a time before nearly pulling all the way out only to slam into her again. _

_He loves her and he never wants this moment to end. _

**Present time**

"Everyone, pardon the interruption but get the fuck out."

Several heads swiveled in his direction with irate expressions to boot, but ask if he cared. He had a pressing matter to discuss with the man sitting in his executive chair looking as casual as a bean, and he needed absolute privacy for what was about to occur next.

When people didn't move out of their chairs fast enough or to his liking, he delivered one of his notorious 'your heart will be served on a platter if you don't move your ass right this second' faces.

"I don't believe I need to repeat myself."

That spurred several people into action as they hastily grabbed their belongings and headed for the exit. When the President rose from his seat looking highly pissed off at Klaus' lack of propriety, the Chief of Staff ignored him and grabbed the door but not without telling the frightened assistant sitting at her desk, "We're not to be disturbed."

The jarring sound of the door being slammed could be heard all the way to the main atrium.

"What the hell is your problem, Klaus? You can't just barge into my office like you're _my _boss. I can have you suspended for this."

"Try it and see what happens. You wouldn't be able to last a day without me telling you the difference between your foot and your ass. We have a problem."

Did he know it, Damon thought. After what happened last night it was a miracle he was still here. Still functioning. He had bargained with himself that he wouldn't think about Bonnie taking off, or Rosalie finding out the truth—the hard way about his involvement with his Press Secretary. But most importantly he wouldn't think about how badly he missed Bonnie and was trying hard even now not to crumble into tiny edible pieces knowing she was gone and that she might not come back.

Damon took a seat on the edge of his desk, folded his arms, and stared impassively at Klaus waiting for him to get on with his diva act.

Klaus held up an eight by eleven size document in his hand to read it.

"_I hereby tender my resignation effectively immediately for reasons I cannot in good faith disclose... It has been an honor and a privilege working under your tutelage to build one of the best administrations the nation has ever seen…. May you continue to have success in whatever endeavor you encounter. Sincerely, Bonnie Bennett."'_

"What did you do?" Klaus asked ferociously or at the very least that was how Damon's mind interpreted the sound of his voice.

Damon held out his hand for the paper to which Klaus was only too happy to thrust it into his hand.

Damon read over the words. Nothing belied the real reason why she was quitting yet each line he read made him feel a distinct pinch to his heart. Bonnie didn't need to say why she was leaving because he knew. He was the reason and that made Damon die inside more than he already had.

His eyes were drawn to Bonnie's elegant signature. His thoughts shifted to what those hands were perfectly capable of. They could mold clay—the untapped potential in a person. They could bring endless hours of pleasure, they could squeeze his heart.

He wasn't sitting in his office. No, he was miles away at her apartment, an apartment he's never seen with his own two eyes—granted, but he was there trying to soothe her, trying to calm her down, and reassure her that the bomb Rosalie dropped on them both didn't change things between them. Well…that might not be completely accurate. Of course things would have to change. What should have been a weight lifting off his shoulders he now felt as if someone had applied a tank to his chest. Bonnie was gone. She wasn't coming back, and no amount of _words _was going to convince her to return to him.

Klaus snapped his fingers impatiently. Damon lifted his head up and narrowed his eyes on his Chief of Staff.

"Why are you blaming me for this?" Damon seethed.

Klaus answered that preposterous inquiry with a snort. "You may take me for an idiot but I assure you I'm far from it." Pause. "I know about you and Bonnie, Damon."

Damon's already aching heart began to pound. If Klaus knew who the hell else knew? He and Bonnie had tried with everything in their power to be as discreet as possible, but it just went to show you could never be careful enough. Then Damon began to wonder how long had Klaus known and when exactly was he going to pull him aside and throw it in his face.

Klaus was a man who reveled in finding a person's weakness and squeezing it like a stress ball. It was how they kept their two-faced Vice President in line. Klaus had dirt on everyone, and everyone knew it. That's why when he wanted something impossible to happen trust it was going to happen.

"How long…"

"Since Iowa," Klaus didn't let Damon finish speaking.

Damon rounded his desk, and took a seat in his chair, more like slumped in it. His spine ran away like Bonnie did, it seemed.

He could never forget Iowa. That was for sure. It was the first time he and Bonnie could escape for a few minutes alone since the South Carolina caucus, and they utilized that to the best of their advantage. Even now Damon was seeing himself in high definition. His rosy cheeks became even more scarlet as the images assaulted him, pummeled him until he was puree.

Klaus was recalling Iowa as well but the images weren't nearly as pleasant for him. Imagine his surprise as he went out for an evening stroll and heard the moans and groans of two people in heat. The little devil in Klaus arose urging him to take a peek to see who he might be able to blackmail. He came to a stop and some forty yards away he saw the moons of Damon's ass, his pants around his ankles clearly balls deep in a woman whose face Klaus couldn't see. It wasn't exactly dark so it was painfully obvious that the woman Damon was ravishing wasn't Rosalie. When the woman tilted her head to the side, Klaus' eyeballs nearly fell out of his head.

It was none other than his protégé. Klaus had known her since she was a promising Political Science major at Duke University. He had taken her under his wing, groomed her, and she flourished having become one of the youngest junior partners at Burke & Kessney, LLC in Richmond. No one would ever mistake Bonnie for a temptress—although she could be. But she had her head screwed on straight, had an innovative mind, so seeing her in the throes of passion with the Independent party's candidate knocked Klaus off his high horse for a second.

From that moment forward he watched the two of them most carefully. They tried to hide it, the secret of their affair, tried to conceal it by never looking at one another for longer than deemed necessary. And when they argued over the issues and points Damon should make when campaigning, there had always been an undertone of lust and desire but they displayed it as nothing more than political passion.

And Klaus being who he was milked the situation without either of them knowing it. He remembered when everyone aside from Damon thought it might be a good idea to convince his brother Governor Stefan Salvatore to endorse him. Yet Damon vehemently argued he could win this election without St. Stefan's help. Knowing that would be impossible, Klaus had sought out Bonnie.

"Damon would look like a more viable threat if he had the backing of his brother," he told Bonnie. "Stefan is highly respected with both the republican and democratic incumbent. How would it look to Damon's campaign if his own brother endorsed one of his opponents? He trusts you, Bonnie. He listens to you. I'm sure you can think of someone way to convince him this is the right move to make."

Later on that same evening, as he was looking over some material, Klaus ran into Damon stumbling off the elevator pulling on his jacket, red cheeked, a little sweaty, tie askew, smelling like sex. It had taken some effort on his part to keep his face completely neutral.

Damon had stopped him, taking Klaus by the shoulders. "Get into contact with Stefan's people and see if we can arrange a meeting. It's time my little brother chose a side. My side," then he slapped Klaus hard on the shoulder. "Make it work."

That was then, this was now.

Klaus observed Damon for a moment and noticed he looked completely defeated. "How do you think the two of you have lasted this long without discovery?" he said. "Who do you think covered for you when you and Bonnie would suddenly go AWOL? I was the one orchestrating behind the scenes to make sure your secret remained that—a secret. I know how many bowl movements you have during the week. There isn't a move you make, Damon without me knowing about it. Of course I knew."

"Well you're not alone because Rosalie knows."

If Klaus was surprised he didn't let it show. But he did say, "Fuck." Klaus planted his hands on his hips. "Consider it a miracle you still have your life."

Damon arched an eyebrow as if to say 'duh'. He had done himself and his wife a favor. He had slept in one of the guest bedrooms. When she joined him for breakfast they said not a word to each other. It was so cold in the room they could have made ice. Before departing to carry out whatever it was a First Lady did, Rosalie saved face and kissed him on the cheek.

"We'll talk," she muttered.

Not looking forward to it, Damon wanted to say. He knew he was facing the eye of the storm right now.

"Oh, but we haven't gotten to the best part," Damon continued. "Rosalie is pregnant."

"Congratulations!" Klaus mocked in faux joviality. He turned serious again. "We're without a Press Secretary, there's an uprising happening in Syria where the body count continues to climb, and we're tacking on debt by the trillions. Could you have picked the worse time to get caught with your dick hanging out of your trousers, Damon?"

"Look, I don't need this right now. I know what's at stake here, Klaus so just do your fucking job and let me do mine."

"You've done quite enough."

"So are you going to send me to bed without my milk and cookies? I'm the fucking president!"

Klaus snorted and shook his head. "Then by all means Mr. President carry on with your duties. I won't stop you. Just bear in mind what will happen if a word of _any _of this gets leaked out to the press. What happened to Bill Clinton will look like a fraternity hazing, while you my friend will be castrated, drawn, and quartered. I'm not going down with you," Klaus headed to the door.

So much for Klaus being ride or die, Damon thought. "What are you about to do?"

"I have damage control to oversee."

* * *

Her remaining on board was not even a question. She was done. It was over. Her thoughts were gnarled like vines around an old house yet they ran on a consistent pattern: Rosalie knows. Rosalie's pregnant. She was carrying Damon's seed and there was nothing Bonnie could do about that. Damon wanted to draw a petition for a divorce but how could he possibly go through with it knowing he had a kid on the way.

Timing was everything. Bonnie knew that but in this case timing was a bitch. Well that was one thing she shared in common with time then.

When she got home she dropped the box carrying her personal belongings on the floor, kicked off her shoes, and then collapsed on the couch, and stared into nothingness for hours until the sun rose and it was a brand new day. She had been too numb to do anything outside of process the fact her heart was bleeding in her chest and the man she loved…betrayed her.

That was a stupid thought, Bonnie admonished herself and finally became cognizant of the time.

She ripped off her blouse and threw it over her shoulder. Her skirt followed next then her underwear before she stomped her way into the bathroom and wrenched the faucet handle in her shower. She stepped under the frigid water too impatient to let it heat up properly. Of course she shrieked when the freezing water came into contact with her skin, nevertheless she stood under the showerhead and finally allowed herself to cry.

She believed it. For two seconds Bonnie allowed herself to believe that Damon really was going to free himself from his so-called loveless marriage, make off with her, and they would build a life together. For two seconds she allowed hope to flow through her veins that the man she loved with her whole heart, mind, body, and soul loved her just as equally and didn't want to spend another minute away from her. For two seconds Bonnie saw herself settling into a domestic and happy life.

And then those two seconds turned into a nightmare. He had lied to her. Damon told her months ago that he had stopped sleeping with Rosalie. In her foolish and naïve mind or maybe she was too "blinded" by love to see her actions were still trifling, Bonnie thought cheating with a married man was okay so long as he wasn't sleeping with his wife. Dumb, she knew that. But she believed him so easily. Thought she was enough to satisfy his needs, but now with a fetus incubating in Rosalie's belly it just went to show what a treacherous snake Damon clearly was.

NO! Her mind roared. Damon wasn't treacherous. He had his deceitful ways, could be underhanded sometimes, but never with her. Right? He was always upfront and honest about the way she made him feel. He never held anything back and usually she was the one who constantly had to keep dropping reminders for Damon not to stare at her a certain way while in the presence of others, and not to send her erotic emails or IM's because anything digital could be traced and recorded.

Picking up her shower gel and sponge Bonnie began to scrub her skin until it felt as tight and raw as her muscles. Twenty minutes later she stepped out of the bathroom donned in a gray tank, leggings, and her oversized knit cardigan. She slapped her long hair into a ponytail and began to meticulously clean her already tidy apartment. Her apartment like her life had been structured down to the last detail but right now all Bonnie really wanted to do was break stuff.

Biting her lips, she vigorously rubbed the kitchen table and stopped when someone began to pound on her front door.

Her heart leapt up and got lodged in her throat. Surely it was the Secret Service or maybe the NSA, Homeland Security, the Navy Seals, it could have been Jesus for all she knew come to cart her away to some clandestine location and water board her. Bonnie had never felt more terrified to open her door in her mortal life.

Looking through the peephole she relaxed but only marginally. Unbolting the door, Bonnie opened it.

Klaus took one look at her makeup-free face, the homely attire, and her red rimmed eyes. "Might I come in?"

First Bonnie wanted to question what he was doing here. She could fit all of the times Klaus had stopped by her place unannounced on one hand, two fingers if she wanted to be technical about it. Silently she nodded her head and stepped aside.

If he was here that meant he knew or he was coming to talk her into coming back personally. It didn't matter what he had to say or what message he might have from the jackass' mouth, she wasn't interested. Her career in politics, in transforming the world was over, caput, the end.

Klaus waited for Bonnie to lead the way to her living room. Everywhere his eyes darted he saw nothing but order and beauty. Her apartment was immaculate and fit her personality well, but he wasn't here for tips on interior decorating. This was business.

Together they sat down on her plush heather gray sofa. "I don't care who sent you. I'm not changing my mind. I'm not coming back," was Bonnie's preamble.

"I'm not here on anyone's behalf, Bonnie. Your letter of resignation has drawn cause for concern." Pause. "This is not like you."

"What?"

"Sitting here in the dark feeling sorry for yourself. You grab things by the balls; you wrestle and throw down with the best of them. You don't quit. You're a gladiator, Bonnie. Where the hell is she?"

"She got in over her head."

"That usually happens when you tangle with Damon Salvatore."

Bonnie looked at Klaus askance. "What do you already know?"

A corner of his blood-red lips lifted. "You always did know the right questions to ask first. I know everything. I know you've been sleeping with the President, I know Rosalie is expecting, but what I want to know is why did you resign?"

Bonnie balked. "For a Rhodes Scholar I would expect you of all people to figure out why I quit. How could I possibly show my face there ever again knowing that my secret is out, but not only that his wife knows _and _she's carrying his baby? I might love my job and what I do, but I don't love it _that _much to put myself through four years of torture."

"You don't believe that child is anymore Damon's than I do. I will get to the bottom of it."

That gave Bonnie pause. If Klaus doubted the validity of paternity could that mean Damon was telling the truth?

Rosalie was a lot of things but being unfaithful, Bonnie shook the thought away.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, Klaus. He's married. That means he's off limits no matter what. Secondly, he's president. What kind of a future could he and I have had together? Just leave this alone."

Klaus sighed. "The administration needs you, Bonnie. I need you, and…Damon needs you. Your being gone has already begun to affect his work." That was a partial lie. It was far too early to tell.

Bonnie shot up from the couch. She didn't need anyone to play Damon's devil's advocate. She didn't care if he stopped sleeping or eating. He was not her problem anymore. She was done holding his hand and building him up as the man he always said he wanted to be. That wasn't her job, her life, her existence anymore, and everyone had better get used to it.

She had better get used to it.

"I don't want to _hear _about Damon. Go back to the White House and tell him this: don't contact me. Forget I ever existed. Forget what we had and go rub your wife's soon-to-be swollen feet. We're done. This conversation is done." Bonnie pointed at the door. "Thank you for stopping by but I've said everything I'm going to say."

Klaus stared at her—hard for a moment before rising to his feet and approaching her. Mentor and mentee engaged in the oldest battle of wills with neither one wanting to back down. But eventually Bonnie did when she felt her nose tingle and her eyes water. She would miss walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Klaus as they talked without taking a breath and bounced ideas off of one another. She would miss the pace of working at the most prestigious house in America. She would miss…Damon, but she had her pride and her pride was telling her to pack her bags and never look back.

"Bonnie," Klaus said softly. "You know I'm not a man of morals or scruples, so don't take my being here as judgment. I know the only way for you to have fallen in love with a married man was if there were deep, intense feelings between the pair of you. Yes, Damon fucked up and there's no changing that, but…I hate getting in the middle of these types of things, but if you need me for anything my door is still open."

The woman in question nodded her head. "I'll be fine."

"I know you will be, but its not you I'm worried about. Damon is reckless when he feels threatened or rejected. I wouldn't put it past him to try to sell America to the Chinese."

That earned him a tiny smile.

Klaus went on, "If you want something bad enough you fight for it. I have all the confidence you will."

"Do you think…do you think I was an idiot for getting involved with him in the first place?"

Klaus shook his head. "No, I just think Damon was an idiot for not waiting for you to come around. Take care of yourself, love."

Bonnie saw her old mentor to the door. Klaus wasn't an overly affectionate man. High praise from him consisted of a beer being lifted in the air and a cutting remark so she wasn't waiting to be drawn into a hug or given an insulting pat on the head.

"Good luck with everything," Bonnie said with all sincerity.

"To you as well. Who knows…our paths may cross again very soon."

"Hopefully not," Bonnie added the minute she closed the door.

* * *

Bonnie tried to avoid sleep because anytime she closed her eyes she saw nothing but her final moments with Damon, kissing him, feeling him touch her, the promise that he was about to knock her bottom out smoldering in his eyes. And then the scene would shift and Rosalie would come barging in wielding that pregnancy test around like it was Loki's scepter.

It was nearing two a.m. and she needed to get some rest so once morning arrived, she'd be hitting the pavement looking to start the next chapter of her life.

Turning the television off, Bonnie folded her afghan blanket and then stretched the muscles in her lower back. The shrill noise of her house phone made her swallow her spit down the wrong pipe.

Unless someone died, no one called her at this hour.

The number was listed as private. Biting the corner of her lip, Bonnie stared at the ringing telephone and raged a mini-battle.

She answered.

"Don't hang up."

Her finger twitched to do just that. Hearing the sound of his voice made her knees weak and her body tremble like an earthquake. They had only been a part for twenty-four hours and it killed Bonnie to discover he could still elicit that kind of a response from her.

"Walk to your bedroom and lie down on the bed."

Anger burst through Bonnie. The nerve of him to call her during booty call hours with the expressed purpose of having phone sex with her as if the events of yesterday never happened. But then Bonnie chided herself. What did she really expect from a married man slash expectant father? It had only been about sex between them, and he was only carrying on in that tradition.

As much as she wanted to tell Damon to rot in hell, she instead paraded to her bedroom, pulled back the duvet and the bed sheet and slid over to the middle of the bed.

"Now I want you to close your eyes and imagine I'm lying right beside you, my arm over your waist, my lips on your neck."

Her eyelids lowered slowly. Unintentionally a little sigh escaped without her permission.

"I'm moving my lips upward, and I kiss your cheek, but you can barely feel it, and I'm hovering over your mouth but I stop and I'm looking at you, and you're looking back at me waiting for my next move."

Bonnie's heart was pounding and she really did wish Damon was here instead of coming to her as a disembodied voice.

"We're still staring at each other and I open my mouth and I say…I love you, Bonnie."

Tears streamed from her eyes as she slapped a hand on her forehead, clutching her phone painfully to her ear.

"I love you, Bonnie," he repeated.

Bonnie wanted to reply, she honestly did but she couldn't. The words got stuck in her throat, refusing to come out. They were heading on two separate paths in two different directions with two different agendas. She needed to let go, they both did, so Bonnie figured she'd pave the way in that regard.

She hung up.

Chapter end.

**A/N: This probably didn't have as much from Klaus POV as you were probably thinking, but I tried to do him justice. No need to worry, you will be seeing more of Mr. Red Lips himself in upcoming chapters. This story will also be rated M from here until the end, and I've decided not to use anymore classic Olitz lines or scenes. That was getting in the way of me keeping Bamon in character, not to say they still probably won't have OOC moments. So in other words, I don't want to hear any complaints, lol. But thank you guys for taking the time to read this. Who knows, if the response and demand for this continue to be good you just may get another chapter this weekend. Love you guys!**


	4. International Liasions

**A/N: Who has the best reviewers and readers in the world? I do! Thank you once again to everyone who's been following this story and all that other jazz. Here is the latest. *Special disclaimer: I'm not speaking of anyone from the actual Swedish Royal Court in this, please don't sue me.***

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringment is intended.

**Sweden-3 Months Later**

The waiting crowd applauded quietly at first but then turned up the volume the second members of the Swedish Royal Court swept into the ballroom, waving with tight and well-practiced smiles on their faces. Bonnie hung back observing their arrival as they stopped to greet certain handpicked dignitaries. Next she stared askance at the young man beside her who refused to keep still.

"Do you remember everything I told you?" Bonnie inquired.

The Count didn't respond right away. He had found a reflective surface clear enough to see his reflection where he picked at his teeth, and made sure his gelled hair was still perfectly in place.

"Phillip!" Bonnie barked which earned her a few disapproving frowns from those standing nearby. She flashed a smile and was tempted to thump Phillip on the back of his head.

"What is it?" the count asked before reluctantly breaking his gaze from his own reflection. When he faced Bonnie he smiled charmingly in the way all young men did when they were trying to fluster a woman's head.

Bonnie didn't fall for the trick or the ploy. She had groomed the biggest playboy in the business so hardly anything fazed her now. Instead, she combed the polished count with a critical eye. Though he looked nothing like _him _they shared common physical traits. They stood just inches over average height, carried a swimmer's build, and had hair as dark as night and eyes as blue as the sky, but _his _eyes were much bluer. Bonnie shook the thought away.

She motioned with her fingers for Phillip to come to her. He wasted no time sauntering up to Bonnie.

"I don't believe I told you how ravishing you look," Phillip grinned as he took in Bonnie attired in a white Chanel dress with black detailing around the bodice.

"Yeah, yeah," Bonnie waved off his flattery. From the moment she stepped off the plane and climbed into the chauffeured vehicle compliments of the royal family, and arrived on the palace doorstep, Phillip had been trying to charm the panties off of her. Bonnie made it clear that she was here on business, not to be his concubine. "Let's try to focus, please."

"Yes, lets," the count leered and tried to grab Bonnie around the waist but she maneuvered out of the way. Phillip frowned. "You're a hard one to decipher, madam."

"There's nothing to decipher, Phillip. You're about to head into the lion's den. All these people care about is getting their hands on a nice piece of juicy gossip about your latest legal trouble."

Phillip cleared his throat uncomfortably and pulled down his tailored tuxedo jacket.

Bonnie was glad that brought him down a peg. "Now do you remember everything I told you?"

"Yes. If anyone brings it up I immediately say 'no comment'. If they keep persisting, I draw their attention to the medical equipment that's being donated to the hospital via the royal family, and that I plan to help assist in the physical therapy care of those who were…ah…injured during my folly. If that does not placate them, I'm to call for security."

"Good. You don't answer any questions without your lawyer and never maintain a conversation for longer than three minutes. You'll sit down, have dinner; dance with your mother and then with one of the daughters of your father's closest friend, and then you call it a night. No night clubbing, Phillip."

The count curled his lip but otherwise nodded his head.

Bonnie went on to say, "You have a press conference at eight tomorrow, and then you'll be off to visit with the victims at the hospital. Only one photographer and reporter will be there, and you're to keep the focus on the patients, not yourself."

"Do you really think this is going to change anyone's opinion about me? They're calling me an attempted murderer," Phillip whispered harshly.

Bonnie looked up into the count's blue eyes. He was a good kid, misguided and spoiled, but at the heart of everything he wasn't a bad person. Yet he was at the center of a controversy. The count had gotten it into his head that he wanted to drink and drive. He led police on a high speed chase that resulted in Phillip crashing his McLaren F1. Four people were hospitalized, one was critically injured. Being a member of the royal court meant he had immunity from being prosecuted, but Phillip couldn't escape feeling guilt in knowing he could have killed someone accidentally.

"We all make stupid mistakes, Phillip. Trust me, I know. But this will only work if you want it to work. At the end of the day we're all looking for redemption. You're a good man, and you didn't mean to hurt anyone. Remember that."

Phillip's name was announced and the applause started again. Bonnie fooled around with his bow tie to make sure it was straight before stepping out of his way. Phillip walked towards the entrance of the grand ballroom but stopped to look at her over his shoulder.

Bonnie smiled and started clapping hoping that would spur him on.

Everyone knew that to make it in this world, you needed friends in high places. As soon as Bonnie severed ties with The White House, everyone from the military, to celebrities, to government officials wanted her on their team. She didn't need to blow the dust off her resume because the country electing an Independent candidate into office pretty much spoke for itself. They knew she was the brains of the operation, the saving grace behind Senator Damon Salvatore's campaign, the lone reason why he stood where he stood.

Needless to say she had options.

Bonnie could work for anyone she wanted, but her desire wasn't to become another "handmaiden". She wanted to go into business for herself.

Returning to the courtroom and spending her nights pouring through law books lost its appeal. After getting a taste of coming up with solutions to seemingly impossible situations, Bonnie knew what her calling in life was now.

Crisis management.

After allowing herself to go through a week-long depression, Bonnie figured her best course of action to gaining more experience and to add to her credibility was to go international. At least for a while. With her grandfather, Archibald Bennett willing to invest in her company, Bonnie needed to build up her clientele before thinking about office space, and staff.

So she packed her bags and headed east. As big and vast as the world was, it was still too small and stifling for Bonnie to remain in the United States. Besides, she wanted a clean start.

Bonnie had always aimed high, but this was higher than expected. Landing a contract with a family of the Swedish Royal Court—she couldn't take full credit for that. She had help in the form of Klaus. He said if she needed anything to call him, so when she did Klaus hesitated yet agreed to search out a possible client for her. He came through and delivered big time. The money she was being paid was ridiculous and it was more than enough to start her enterprise.

Bonnie observed the royal family for a moment. Naturally her thoughts shifted to Damon. She had done everything in her power to forget him. Bonnie had gone so far as to forbid herself from buying a television so she wouldn't be tempted to watch the news or C-SPANN hoping to catch a glimpse of him. She had even stopped buying the newspaper, and avoided all topics concerning politics.

Waking up everyday was painful but she pressed forward. Going to bed at night, alone with just her thoughts to keep her company, Bonnie was surprised she was still sane. For the first month she dreamt about Damon every night. By the second month his appearances dwindled down to a few times every other week. Now in their third month of separation, Bonnie could hardly remember his face or the sound of his voice.

At least that's what she told herself. When she walked along the cobblestone streets and she'd see a guy with dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin her breath would catch. Bonnie would chide herself and say that Damon was more than a world away.

Yet that didn't stop him from calling her every night.

She thought it would get easier, avoiding his calls, but it only got worse. Bonnie missed him terribly but she knew she was doing the right thing.

Slipping out into the hall to get some fresh air, Bonnie walked down the long corridors of the palace. This place was beautiful beyond imagining, and the one person she wanted to share this experience with was the last person she should be around.

Life was going to get easier, that was her new motto. If only she believed it.

* * *

**Washington DC**

The door to the master bedroom burst open as if it had been blown to pieces by napalm. Rosalie shucked her shoes off and started taking out her earrings as she paced madly back and forth waiting for her husband to make his grand entrance.

Damon did so but at a leisurely pace, an open bottle of Jack Daniels dangling from his fingertips. He brought the bottle up to take another hit and winced slightly when the alcohol made contact with the cut on his upper lip.

Rosalie witnessed that and curled her lip in disgust. Damon waited for her to start hurling words and accusations because really that's all the bitch was good for nowadays. He kind of missed those days when Rosalie exercised her tongue and lips for more recreational purposes, but all of that some seven years later from the first time they met was hardly a memory worth revisiting.

Damon began the countdown in his head and trotted over to his perfectly organized side of the closet looking for a comfortable pair of jogging pants to put on.

Twisting her arms behind her back, Rosalie unzipped her dress and shimmied it over her hips. She paused momentarily to look at the slight bump protruding from her middle. She was only four months into her pregnancy yet she studied the changes to her body religiously. She wasn't one of those women obsessed with their figures changing dramatically during pregnancy. Rosalie welcomed every pound gained and every stretch mark that made itself known. She gently laid her hand on her belly before glaring at her husband.

"You've officially lost your mind, Damon."

"Here we go," he said it loud enough for Rosalie to hear although his back was to her.

"You're not in high school anymore! What would possess you to think it was okay to just punch out the Speaker of the House simply because he disagreed with you. You're making yourself, this administration, and yes _me _look like idiots."

Damon swung around, eyes livid. "You don't need any help in that department from me."

Rosalie gasped and tightened her hold on her stomach as if shielding the fetus from his verbal attack. "How can you stand there and talk to the mother of your child like that."

Damon's face was as red as a tomato. He pointed accusingly at her stomach. "That's not my kid, Rose and I wish you'd stop lying and telling everyone within earshot that I knocked you up!"

"This is your baby!" Rosalie retaliated. Her left hand shook because that's how badly she wanted to smack Damon across the cheek. "I'm not the one who screwed around."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Damon felt the noose around his neck tightening. "Just stop, Rosalie. Stop and tell me the truth. You know we haven't fooled around in months. So unless you drugged me and rode me in my sleep that's the _only _way that baby you're carrying is mine."

"Oh, so now I'm a rapist," Rosalie bobbed her head. "Incredible."

"Rose…"

The First Lady held up her hand. "Is that too harsh of a word for you? Okay, so I'm not a rapist, but you want to imply that you're an honorable man who only screws one woman at a time. Is that what you told your whore?"

Damon's eyes flashed mercury and his voice was gravelly when he said, "_She's not a whore_."

Rosalie continued unhindered, "You told her that you and I stopped sleeping together the minute you nailed her. And she believed you, didn't she? Well I hate to bust the little fantasy you've built up in your mind as the truth, but you and I were together the week after Valentine's Day. We had dinner with the Winston's. Sam bought you that expensive scotch to which you chugged like a fish, and then waltzed into our room and made the _best_ love to me that you've made to me in years, Damon."

Rosalie sauntered over to her husband and noticed that the color drained from his face and he looked downright sick. "That's right, Damon. You made love to me although I'm being generous in that regard because they way you handled me…it was like you hated me but couldn't get enough of me either."

Damon stiffened his spine, "Yeah, then I was probably thinking about Bonnie," he smiled snidely. "If that actually happened."

Without warning, Rosalie's hand struck out but never made contact with its intended target. She winced as she realized that Damon had her wrist in a death grip.

"Let me go," she said through clenched teeth.

Damon held on to her for a little while longer before releasing her.

Rosalie glared at him as she rubbed feeling back into her wrist. "You're a miserable bastard."

"Tell me something I don't know about myself," Damon muttered. He wasn't staying in this room tonight, nor any another night.

"You're acting out because she left you. Get over her! She dropped you like a bad habit at the first sign of trouble and ran for the hills. And all you've been doing is moping, whining, and complaining like a gotdamn spoiled brat! When did you become so weak and pathetic?"

Inwardly, Damon cringed because he told himself that Bonnie hadn't just abandoned him, but that she left because this was an impossible situation. However, she refused to take his phone calls, and though he had ordered a private security detail to follow her and report back on her movements, it was shutdown as soon as it started because Bonnie no longer resided in DC.

He had no idea where she was and Damon was literally sick inside.

Yet he pushed all of that to the back of his mind and refocused his attention on his petty wife.

"And when did you become a manipulative and cold-hearted bitch, Rosalie? Oh, wait you were always that but I just didn't see it before. I can admit to the mistakes I made but don't stand there and act so prim, proper, and _innocent_ as if your shit doesn't stink. I don't remember touching you, but if you want to tell yourself I'm the father, go right ahead, but the truth will come out soon enough. You can try to pull this self-righteous act because it's not going to fly. You try to burn me, I'll burn you. Eye for an eye and all that other sanctimonious bullshit."

Rosalie's chin quivered but she refused to cry in front of Damon knowing he got some kind of sick satisfaction out of making her cry. Denying his child was low, and he could play that card until he was blue in the face, but it wouldn't change anything. They were husband and wife. They were partners, and she wasn't going anywhere. For her part, Rosalie realized a little too late that she painted herself into a corner that she had no way of escaping. So long as she behaved in the same manner as previous First Ladies her life could be anything she wanted it to be, and she was going to remain steadfast in this and maintain her dignity.

She had done things to help Damon, and she had done things to hurt him. He wasn't a bystander either and had done his fair share of dirt right in front of her eyes and behind her back. It was a demented and toxic cycle they were on where they could have moments of peace but those were always short-lived. Rosalie woke up every morning knowing her husband wished she were someone else.

"Consider this your room now," Damon announced. "Have a good night." He tried to leave but Rosalie grabbed him by the arm, restraining him.

"Damon, we need to talk. Klaus is doing all he can to lessen the blow, pun not intended of what you did this afternoon. No President has physically struck a constituent in the history of this country. We need to do damage control."

Damon upturned the bottle once more and ripped his arm from her talons. The only person he trusted who could in essence clean up this fine mess he made…well she was gone. Klaus and his handlers were on their own.

"I'm not apologizing to that son of a bitch."

Rosalie sighed heavily. "You have to, Damon. As much as I know it pains you to admit when you're wrong and out of line, well you were. You took the cake today."

"Then I hope I get cavities because I'm not apologizing! I'm done with this conversation. Tell the Speaker of the House Alaric Saltzman he can go to hell."

"Damon," Rosalie tried to stop him. He did. At the door. "I'm not done talking about this."

"I want a divorce," Damon said flatly.

Rosalie's mouth fell into the shape of an O before she regained her composure. "You're not getting one. You're not getting rid of me so you can put _her _in my place."

"Either we do this the easy or the hard way, Rose, but I'm getting a divorce."

The First Lady marched up to her husband, getting as close to his face as she could stand, "Over my cold, dead body you are."

Damon took another swig of his Jack before replying, "If that what it takes."

* * *

Throwing open the door to his new bedroom, Damon stomped over to the phone, picked up the receiver and barked at the operator to patch him through a secured line. He stabbed the keys inputting Bonnie's number as he slammed down his half empty bottle of Jack on the end table.

"Answer your phone, gotdamnit," he cursed and unbuttoned his shirt, impatiently ripped it off and tossed it over his shoulder.

Damon was pretty positive he was close to being drunk, but he had a high tolerance for alcohol so this wouldn't really qualify as drunk-dialing. Yet he was sure in a few more minutes it would be because he was finding it difficult to get his words together in his head.

The phone continued to ring and he knew he was only two rings away before his call would be routed to her voice mail.

* * *

Bonnie stared at her buzzing BlackBerry. Several times she told herself that she was going to get a new number and anytime she sat out to do just that, she caved. Private flashed on her screen and she didn't need to be psychic to know who was calling her. She had heard what happened on the Hill today. She learned that President Damon Salvatore jumped over several seats and attacked Speaker of the House Alaric Saltzman simply because he criticized the President's proposed plan to overhaul healthcare, mandating that every American be insured. Well the Speaker wanted to know who was going to pay for that, and in typical Damon fashion he told them to worry about that later or either put it on his tab. More words were exchanged before Damon flew off the handle and punched Mr. Speaker's lights out.

Her thumb inched closer to the ignore button yet at the last second, Bonnie hit the answer button and brought the phone to her ear.

Damon was stunned that she answered that he merely sat on the edge of the bed—blinking. He hadn't heard her voice in close to three months and already his heart was racing. He was sure his pupils were dilating, and his mouth was drying up.

Bonnie didn't speak not that her ability to do so was being impaired. She was alone in this corridor of the palace, not a servant or dignitary or guard to be seen or heard. So Bonnie slumped against the wall and stared out the window into the courtyard were expensive sports cars and limos were pulling up.

"So," Damon finally said, "I got into a bit of a…I knocked a dude out today."

Bonnie smiled but she still refused to speak.

"You should have seen it. Well you probably did. It's the talk of the town and you know I don't disappoint when it comes to making controversial decisions. Now everyone is expecting me to apologize to Saltzman but you know that's not my style." Pause. "Say something. Get mad. Get angry. Start preaching to me, Bonnie. I just…I just need to _hear_ your voice right now because I think I'm losing my mind."

Biting a corner of her lip, Bonnie checked both ends of the corridor just to make sure she was still alone. She took a breath. "Damon…"

On his side of the world, Damon clutched the receiver tighter in his hands and closed his eyes to savor the timbre of her voice. The concrete that encased him cracked but only a little.

"You were wrong," Bonnie continued.

"I know."

"Be the bigger man and apologize."

"I don't want to," he whined but then became serious again. "I will…eventually. But not now. I'm teaching those pricks on The Hill a very valuable lesson that I will fuck you up if you get on my bad side."

"You're not a mob boss, Damon so don't act like one. What you did today shows that you're too sensitive. You're harder than that."

"Where are you?" as far as Damon was concerned he was done with that line of conversation.

"I'm not stateside," Bonnie replied.

Damon snorted. "I know that, but _where _are you? I'm coming to get you."

She remained silent. Damon nodded his head although Bonnie couldn't see the action.

"Do you hate me, Bonnie?"

"No, I don't hate you."

"So why haven't you been taking my calls?"

Bonnie winced slightly at the edge she recognized in his voice. "We've been through this I don't know how many times…"

"Do you…love me? Even after everything I've done," Damon interrupted.

"Damon…"

"Please…I won't ask again, but I just need to know that I'm not in this alone. I haven't been sleeping. I've lost weight. Patience…" Damon laughed dryly, "is a thing of the past with me. I'm fucking this all up and I don't know how to stop myself. You're the only thing that's real to me and I don't even have you anymore. So please, just let me know and we can wipe the slate clean, and I'll get back on my game and-,"

"Damon, I love you," Bonnie cut off his speech. His heart exploded and then began to mend itself back together.

"You weren't the only person to mess up. I have to take the blame for my role in everything," Bonnie said.

"But I'm the one who's…"

"And I knew that and I fell for you anyways," Bonnie laughed self-deprecatingly. "We've done nothing but talk in circles. I love you and I believe you love me, but we can't…"

"Yes we can!"

"You have a baby coming."

"That's not my kid!" Damon's voice went up an octave.

"That's so original. It doesn't matter anyways. We were living a lie, a fantasy, and its time that the both of us wake up. Let this be…let this be the last time we talk to each other. I miss you, Damon, but we can't keep doing this. You have a country to run. And I have a business to grow."

Damon was standing on his feet by this point. "Bonnie, please don't do this to me."

"I'm…so sorry, Damon…I have to go."

"Don't you fuckin' hang up on…"

His ear was assaulted by the sound of the dial tone. The part of him that was warming up was turning cold again.

Damon didn't know what happened after that. When he woke up the next morning, on the floor no less, he saw the damage his rage had inflicted on the room. Goose feathers from the pillows he ripped to pieces by his bare hands covered nearly everything and a few even floated gingerly on the air. The night tables and chairs had been flipped over, the drapes torn down, a window was broken. The phone had been smashed to pieces. There were dents on the walls, and when he felt a burning throbbing pain radiating from his hands he noticed he had cuts and abrasions that weren't the result of punching Alaric in the face.

Klaus walked into the bedroom yet stopped abruptly as he looked at the damage Damon had done. His lips puckered and it was plain to see his displeasure.

If this is what love reduced people to when they lost it, it was a good thing falling in love wasn't a priority of his, Klaus thought. He had suffered through heart ache before and would willingly wish it on any enemy, but he was tired of this version of Damon. Man needed to get his head out of his arse and pronto or he would be evicted from The White House. And Klaus had sacrificed too many kittens and babies to get here just to lose it all because Damon decided to take a trip down insanity lane.

Damon opened his mouth to explain, but Klaus silenced him by lifting his hand. "I don't even want to know. Just get up, clean yourself off, and get to the Oval. The Speaker of the House is willing to sit down and listen to you explain why you went ape shit crazy on him. I've had to sell pieces of my soul to get that dullard to agree to a meeting, Damon. This is your one chance so please don't fuck it up. You have exactly half an hour to pull yourself together."

Slowly Damon rose to his feet and wobbled a bit. It was time to put on another performance of a lifetime.

* * *

Later on that same evening, Damon was informed by his wife that she was going to dinner with a few of her sorority sisters. He couldn't even muster up the strength to act interested, merely looked right through Rosalie as if she were glass.

He had stumbled his way through an apology that didn't sound sincere to his own ears but placated the high strung Speaker of the House enough to get him out of his office with a quickness. The rest of the day had been spent being briefed, debriefed, and tripled briefed on subjects and matters that Damon could really care less about.

All day he had done nothing but replay the sound of Bonnie's voice in his head. She was gone. Just like Rosalie said. She had packed her bags and left him high and dry and though she might love him it didn't mean she was going to play second fiddle. Didn't Bonnie know that he placed _her _above all others? That it was only _her _happiness she cared about?

He was able to get one of the geeks who worked in Intelligence to pinpoint her location via satellite. She was in Sweden. Why? He had no idea but he would find out soon enough.

Bonnie had to have known she wouldn't be able to hide so long as he was in office. His reach was vast and he'd stop at nothing to know she was safe. That's why he was adding insane expenditures at a dizzying amount to the country's deficit to keep tabs on her. It was all for her. And she could really give a shit that he was essentially invading her privacy. Not like she knew that, but still.

With a snap of his fingers he could order two of the best special force operatives to fly to Halmstad, or Stockholm or wherever the hell she was in Sweden, and basically drag her back kicking and screaming on some trumped up charges. He could place her under house arrest; he could Jason Bourne her if he wanted to, but…

She'd only hate him for it and Damon couldn't afford that. He couldn't risk her love for him turning into hate because that was the only thing getting him by.

He needed to get out of this gotdamn house! He needed a break from being leader of the free world. It was hard feeling free considering a detail of men followed him around all the damn time. He couldn't even take a piss in a public bathroom without it being searched by dogs first. His life was under constant surveillance, and Damon could really knee himself in the gonads for running for President.

Leaving his office, he headed to his bedroom, being followed naturally. He flipped off his agents before slamming the door in their faces. Damon quickly donned black jeans, a plain white T-shirt and grabbed his leather jacket. He slapped his feet into his black Durango boots and looked at himself in the mirror.

_This _was the Damon Salvatore he remembered. The one who would start bar fights just for the hell of it when he was in his teens. The one who cut class just to screw some chick or to get high and drunk. The one who fled boarding school only to be found and thrown back in.

Stepping out of his room the two no-nonsense agents quickly scanned his attire, yet said nothing. They didn't have to. They knew he was about to do something dumb.

"Look," Damon said, "I'm a grown ass man who simply wants to take his Bugatti for a test drive."

"We're going to have to alert…"

Damon held up a finger crossly. "You're not alerting anyone. I'm the President. If I want to streak naked across the south lawn its in my right to do so. So we're not going to sit here and negotiate whether or not I can ride my motorcycle without the proper escort. You can come along if you want to, but I doubt you'll be able to keep up."

Heading for the garage, he could hear the two agents fussing with their superior on trying to find a way to talk Damon out of doing what he was about to do.

Damon mounted his bike without a helmet.

"Sir," an agent said holding out the black helmet towards Damon who looked at him contemptuously.

"No thanks. I'll be fine."

"Take the helmet, sir."

Damon stared at his agents before grabbing the helmet and cramming it on his head. He then cranked the engine, throttled the gas and was off before they could climb into their unmarked vehicle and pursue him.

Sure in retrospect what he was doing was dangerous, but Damon's life had been nothing but structure for so long that the first thing he felt after liberation was fear. What if he did crash? What if someone recognized him and then caused an accident trying to either get his attention or autograph? What if one of his enemies tried to take a shot at him?

Whatever, Damon sat that on the back burner. He wouldn't cross into Virginia or Maryland; he'd keep everything confined to DC. That should be enough to lower the risk, right?

The ride was smooth and exhilarating, flying down the streets close to seventy miles an hour. Not making a good example, but he could really care less. He just needed to forget who he was and enjoy this because the next three years of his life would be hell, and all he wanted was a moment to remember the man he used to be.

Damon crossed over the 18th Street Bridge but had to brake because of high volume traffic. Ugh, he hated idling so he did something completely illegal and raced his bike in between cars.

So long as no one opened their door, he'd be fine.

Someone honked their horn which broke his concentration. Damon was drawing closer to the light and slammed on his brakes at the last second.

He didn't cross into the intersection which was flooded with cars. When the light turned green he was off again, making his way to 395 and merged onto the highway.

Damon might have been riding in peace for fifteen minutes before he spotted red and blue flashing lights in the side mirror. The cavalry had been tipped off.

"Fuckin' perfect," he muttered but then took an unexpected exit hoping to lose his security detail. Unfortunately the exit was much shorter than anticipated. There was a car not twenty feet from him but it wasn't moving. Instinct kicked over and Damon instantly applied the brake but he had been traveling too fast. At the last second, Damon tried to turn the bike sideways, skidding across the asphalt but it wasn't enough to slow his momentum.

The sound of the impact was deafening.

Damon flew over the handle bars and landed in the back window of the late model Ford Taurus. He felt his neck and back snap and then everything felt loose like Jell-O. Glass rained down on him. Pain assaulted him. His awareness lasted for two seconds before unconsciousness snatched him.

Screams filtered the air.

* * *

Bonnie woke with a start and couldn't breathe. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with Damon.

Chapter end.

**A/N: All I really have to say is dum dum dum. Stay tuned. Thanks again for reading! Love you and let me know what you think. **


	5. Throw Down the Gauntlet

**A/N: I have to once again say I'm just blown away with the responses this story has generated! You guys spoil me (pls don't stop) Here is the latest. Enjoy! Oh, also I'm going to go back and change how long Damon's been in office just to add more history to his relationship with Bonnie. So instead of this being Damon's first year in office, it's his second. Thanks, guys!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

It's an interesting thing. Being half conscious. He could hear sounds that sounded like voices. He could see light, detect movement, but the picture was out of focus—blurry. He could feel himself being stripped bare, but all of that was really on the outside.

On the inside he felt nothing but cold, hard pain. Needles or something close to it bit into his skin. The sensation roaring in his back reminded him of mouse traps being placed along the column of his spine. There was pinching, pulling, tugging, searing hot pain that was so relentless he could actually taste his death. The pain was worse than slamming your hand into a door, or dropping something very heavy on your foot. One minute things could be numb, he'd feel nothing, and then just seconds later it felt as if he had been shoved right back into an oven or microwave.

Damon tried his best to put all of that out of his mind. He knew vaguely that someone was addressing him, asking him questions but he couldn't speak, couldn't respond. So he gave up trying to answer. He needed, no _wanted _to move, to get up, but that icy pain made Damon feel as if he went skinny dipping in Antarctica.

There was actually nothing to really compare this to. He imagined this pain might be like getting a root canal without anesthesia, or having a limb removed with a saw, but still it all paled in comparison to what was taking place along his spine. His nerve endings were practically lit up and on fire like a flame following a trail of gunpowder before reaching a pile of explosives.

He supposed in his weird lucid state that the ability to feel pain was a good thing. Not saying it was better than feeling nothing at all, but he'd much rather not deal with the fact he felt like a foreign object inside his own body, which was determined to ache and pound and throb all over without ceasing.

Again that numb feeling began to weight him down like iron being applied to rubber, and he was suffocating. Damon was warm and sticky all over but above all that exhausted. He wanted to do nothing more than sleep but they—whoever _they_ were—wouldn't stop poking and prodding him; wouldn't stop talking, wouldn't stop buzzing around like a gotdamn herd of bees. They were getting on his nerves but he couldn't even tell them to knock if off, shut the hell up because truthfully he was a prisoner in his own body.

So he just lied there.

Heavier now, warm and then cold, so cold he nearly jolted off whatever hard surface he was laying on. The noise around him seemed far, distant, as if he were walking away. And he did want to walk away. Perhaps where he was going would be a much better place than his current predicament.

His mother said that a man wears the same suit he was born in when he dies. He had no idea what she meant by that when she said those prophetic words to him at the tender age of seven, but he understood it perfectly now. If he concentrated exceedingly hard, which was difficult because the pain was an entity, an uninvited houseguest that refused to leave, but he tried to see his mother's face, tried to recall the sound of her voice, but there was nothing. Damon could remember the last time he spared either of his parents, but mainly his mother a second thought. It may have been years, and that saddened him tremendously.

This was also typical. Wanting your mother when you've gone and done a stupid thing like hurt yourself. What he wouldn't sell to have her scold him for being so careless before picking him up, cleaning off his wound, and fixing him his favorite dessert.

In this painful darkness he caught a flicker of something. Mocha skin. Hazel-green eyes. Bowed lips. Damon felt warmth there. And being of the curious nature, he allowed himself to be drawn to it.

He was thrust forward suddenly, catapulted through a sling shot, traveling too fast it was dizzying. As soon as it started it was over and there was pressure on his limbs, but this weight was pleasurable, familiar, and feminine.

He liked this change in scenery.

**November 2008**

_Soft laughter, the crinkle of the Sunday newspaper, and limbs moving across soft sheets filled the air of the Presidential Suite in a downtown DC hotel. _

_Eyes the color of a ginger ale bottle read over the small printed words. "Three bedrooms, two and a half baths, renovated kitchen, parking garage, gym, tennis court, and only minutes from Franconia Metro station."_

"_Too far," that idea was quickly vetoed._

_Bonnie curved her lips in incredulity but then went on to read the next possibility. "Two bedrooms, one and half baths, gated parking, no pets…Branch Avenue Metro station access."_

"_Again, too far. There's got to be something in the district. I want you as close to me as possible," Damon took the paper out of her hands and began to skim through the options that Bonnie had pre-circled._

_Now that he was officially President and would be moving into that house located on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue come January, he wanted his newly selected Press Secretary to be within reaching distance. If he had his way Bonnie would be moving into the White House with him, but knowing he could never explain that and not draw some eyebrows and of course incite speculation and rumors, he'd have to live with the idea of Bonnie being on her own, under her own roof. _

_Sneaking away, having these stolen moments thrilled him and disappointed him at the same time. Bonnie wasn't his, and he wasn't hers. She could call this thing off any time she liked and he wasn't in a position of power to convince her otherwise. This was a conundrum if he ever saw one. Here he was seemingly one of the most powerful men on the earth, but he literally had no power or merely signed it over the minute he was alone with Bonnie._

_He didn't like to think of what they had as an "affair" although that's exactly what it was. But in his eyes, most importantly in his heart she was the woman he loved._

_After hearing his demand for her to be close, Bonnie threw one leg over his waist and straddled him._

"_Is this good?"_

_Damon grabbed her thighs and squeezed. "Here is perfect. Sold!"_

_Laughing, Bonnie leaned forward and kissed him, soft at first and then harder until one kiss melted into another, and it became a battle to see whose lips would be the most swollen afterward. Bonnie eased back a little to stare into his eyes. Damon sensed she was going to say what they had been avoiding talking about, so he silenced her with another kiss. _

"_Not now…let's just enjoy this," he told her. "Nothing has to change between us."_

_Her little fingers pulled down the neck of his plain white T-shirt. "That's where you're wrong, Mr. President…everything has to change…"_

Damon was hurtled again through time, through memories until he arrived at another.

**April 2009**

_It had always been his intention to separate himself from the Presidents who preceded him. When it came time for Damon to award the Congressional Medal of Honor, after doing the requisite press conference, Damon hosted a small party out on the north lawn keeping the affair small and publicity free. _

_The intimate setting unfortunately seemed to backfire on him as he saw Bonnie spending most of the event speaking and smiling at Lt. Colonel Brady Macintyre of the US Marines almost the whole time. This wouldn't have bothered him under much different circumstances, but something about the way they maintained eye contact with one another as they talked about whatever it was they were discussing, coupled with the fact they couldn't stop grinning at one another, it did something funny to his insides. _

_Damon imagined himself burning like a vampire in the sun at the fierce emotions that had overtaken him while observing Bonnie interacting with someone who wasn't him. Simply put he didn't like the idea of Bonnie possibly gaining an interest in someone else and wanting to explore it. He wasn't exactly in the greatest position to convince her to stick around. _

_That realization which he had foolishly blocked ate away at him like hydrochloric acid. The thought of Bonnie leaving him terrified him._

_Terrified him so much that he did what he did best. He resorted to his assholish ways to keep those conflicting emotions at bay._

_The following week Damon hardly spoke to her, didn't stare at her whenever she was given the floor to speak during their meetings, and when he had no choice but to address her he had been short and succinct . He had made snide comments under his breath in regards to her, and mocked her with heavy sarcasm. Bonnie allowed his surly attitude to go on for two days, but on the third day she had asked to speak with him privately. _

"_Sir, do you have a problem with me?" Bonnie asked right out of the gate as soon as the Oval cleared._

_Damon pretended to be engrossed in organizing a stack of papers._

"_Sir?"_

_Knowing he couldn't ignore her forever, Damon turned around and faced her. How could he voice what he wanted to bring to her attention without coming off as a hypocrite? _

"_Your behavior at the Congressional Medal of Honor luncheon was unprofessional."_

_Bonnie blinked. "Excuse me, what?" she was sure she hadn't heard him properly. "I'm sorry but did I strip out of my clothes and swing my bra around? How was my behavior unprofessional?"_

_Now that he dug himself into this rabbit hole he had no choice but to commit. "The way you were behaving with Lt. Colonel Macintyre is what I'm talking about, Bonnie. You were practically sitting in his lap at the table."_

_Hearing her derisive laughter was the last thing Damon expected and it only served to piss him off more. _

"_So because of your perceived notion of my behavior is why you've been acting like a child for the last three days? You've got to be kidding me, Damon. So I can't even exchange smiles and pleasantries to America's heroes, is that what you're telling me? I just want to be clear, your highness."_

_Damon's eyes had rolled, "This administration has a reputation…"_

_Bonnie held up a hand to silence him. This "meeting" certainly hadn't been going in his favor and Damon was clueless on how to salvage it. _

"_Don't try to pin this on the administration. You're the one who has a problem with my 'behavior' not the administration, and I must say, Mr. President that your concern has no footing." Bonnie walked closer to Damon and dropped her voice an octave. "And need I remind you that you aren't exactly in a position to judge. So I don't know why you're acting like this."_

"_Because I'm in love with you!" Damon blurted out unintentionally. _

_Time seemed to be suspended for a moment. The shock on her face was worthy of being captured on film and Damon was positive his face mirrored the same expression. He scrambled to find a way to recover his folly, but he couldn't take it back. He meant what he said. _

"_I'm sure you think I'm just saying that…"_

"_I'm in love with you, too," Bonnie had interrupted softly._

_The both of them were breathing hard as if they ran up a flight of stairs. All feeling left his limbs and was replaced with air. She loved him? She shared his feelings? _

_Damon leaned forward to kiss her, but Bonnie leaned backwards and pointed at the ceiling reminding him that big brother was watching. Taking her by the hand, he showed her out of the oval and into a small private office that was for his own personal use._

_Once the door closed and the lock clicked into place their clothes hit the floor. _

**December 2009**

_The White House photographer was scheduled to come and take a picture of Damon and Rosalie for the official Christmas card that would soon be circling the internet and the administration. As tradition dictated, a gingerbread house had been built in the shape of the White House, as the fire place mantel and even the tree itself was decorated with cards and ornaments from American citizens and organizations from all fifty states._

_Opening the door housing the twenty-five foot tall Christmas tree that was as wide as a two-lane road, Damon pulled Bonnie inside the formal living room and closed the door behind him._

"_Wow," Bonnie covered her mouth with her hands as she stared up at the majestic tree that held ornaments nearly as big as her head. She turned to face Damon who had kept his gaze on her the entire time while she took it all in. "That's a huge fucking tree."_

_Her unexpected comment made Damon bark out in laughter. It wasn't often Bonnie cursed and when she did he found it adorable for no other reason than it sounded strange coming from such a prim and proper person. _

"_I can always count on you to say what's exactly on my mind," Damon pulled one of her spiral curls and watched in slight fascination as it curled right back into shape. "Get a closer look."_

_Bonnie took a few tentative steps towards the large tree, looking over the ornaments noting the states certain ones represented. There were beautifully wrapped boxes underneath and Bonnie wondered if anything was in them. _

_She gasped a little when Damon laid his hand on the small of her back and pointed at a specific area._

"_No, look here."_

_Bonnie did and saw a small box wrapped in silver paper with Tiffany blue snowflakes imprinted on it. She saw her name on the box and sharply looked at Damon. He said nothing, only winked and smirked at her._

_Bonnie picked up the box and shook it trying to ascertain what might be inside. "We agreed we weren't going to exchange gifts."_

"_I changed my mind," he said dramatically. "Well just don't stand there with your mouth hanging open catching flies. Open it."_

"_We have work to do, Mr…"_

_Damon placed his index finger on her soft, cushiony lips and smiled a bit when Bonnie kissed it. That certainly did something to his man parts. "Nope…Damon," he reminded her. "Open the box, Bonnie." _

_She did so with nervous fingers revealing a black box. Her eyes went as wide as a cat's. "Damon…"_

_Taking the box out of her hands, Damon opened it to reveal a platinum band encrusted with diamonds. Plucking the ring out of its velvet sheath, Damon held it out to Bonnie. _

"_You're not…" Bonnie was too afraid to finish her thought._

"_I can make almost anything on the planet happen except for what I really want. At least right now. Consider this a promise ring, Bonnie which yeah it seems a little juvenile, but this was the only way I could think to ask you this massive favor."_

"_What?"_

"_Wait for me. I know I'm basically asking you to put your life on hold and that's not fair, but you know how I feel about you. So will you wear this?"_

_Bonnie took the ring out from between his fingers and stared at it. She didn't give him an answer that day or the day after. And he never saw her wear that ring ever. _

And the memories he was reliving took place more recently. Klaus barging into his office to read Bonnie's resignation letter. Him sitting behind his desk, staring at the phone wondering if it would be a smart or dick move of him to call her just to hear her voice. Sleeping so far on the edge of the bed that if he sneezed he'd topple off because he couldn't stomach the idea of lying next to Rosalie anymore.

His consciousness was fading again until he was presented with nothing but darkness all around. He heard nothing, not even the sound of his own breathing. He figured now was as good as time as any to finally get some sleep.

* * *

**Sweden- Present Day**

Bonnie was impressed she hadn't worn a hole in the carpet due to her pacing. Ever since a strong ominous feeling awakened her in the middle of the night, she couldn't escape thinking something was fatally wrong with Damon. Yet as the sun rose over the horizon, Bonnie still hadn't mustered up the courage to see if her suspicions had any merit by calling one of her contacts in Washington.

Tapping her palm with her phone, Bonnie worried her bottom lip as she paced back and forth. She had asked one of the manservant's to fetch her a newspaper—in English—and that had been forty minutes ago.

Someone knocked on her door. Bonnie nearly leapt out of her skin as she padded barefoot to answer it.

"Thank you," Bonnie said to the servant who looked less than pleased by having to run an errand before the ass crack of dawn. If he was looking for a tip for his services he would be disappointed because she slammed the door in his face.

There it was. Emblazoned on the front page of the newspaper a blurry image of Damon apparently strapped to a gurney being placed inside a waiting ambulance.

Her heart plummeted to her toes. Her mouth dried up, and bile percolated in her system. Bonnie's eyes flew over the words devouring what happened to the 44th president.

As she continued to read, the more her shock and disbelief morphed into anger. Damon went for a joy ride on his Bugatti motorcycle without his Secret Service detail, and some how lost control of his bike. A bike that had been a gift from an Italian dignitary which had been blessed by the Pope. Damon was the farthest thing from a Catholic yet had accepted the gift because he liked fast and shiny things.

She was near the end of the article and breathed out a sigh in relief. Damon's actions proved to be rash and reckless but he hadn't been completely irresponsible. He had been wearing a helmet at the time of the crash, but still that only protected his head not the rest of his body.

Dropping the paper on her rumpled bed, Bonnie finally gave in and called Klaus.

She didn't expect him to answer. More than likely he was too busy starting an investigation into how Damon got it into his head to take his motorcycle out without the proper detail, to dealing with DC, Capitol, and Secret Service police, to even having to monitor Damon's status at the hospital. Needless to say his hands were tied.

Right before his voice mail kicked on, their lines were connected.

"Klaus how is he? What are the doctors saying?"

"Bonnie," Klaus sighed and in that sigh she identified his weariness with this whole business on top of his exasperation with Damon as a whole. Babysitting a room full of toddlers could be easier sometimes. "They've been giving us bits and pieces, but right now he has a shattered elbow, three broken ribs, his hip had to be popped back into place. The President also has a hairline fracture in his tibia, but it's his spinal injuries they're mostly worried about."

Bonnie gulped thickly. "Is he…?"

"Paralyzed? They won't know until he wakes up, and they haven't exactly told us if he's broken his neck or several vertebrae in his back. They're also worried about possible brain damage, but I doubt they'll find anything more than what he already had," Klaus jested.

Bonnie snorted but it was a half-hearted one. As long as his heart still had its beat she'd worry about the rest later.

"I'm assuming he's in surgery?" Bonnie asked.

"Yes." Pause. "He's going to need you, Bonnie. If by some miracle Damon isn't paralyzed or has temporary paralysis he's facing months if not years of physical therapy. And you know how prickly and surly he can be when he's irritated, which doesn't take much to set him off. He's going to need you to be the kick in the pants that will get him through this."

"I don't know, Klaus. You know that Rosalie is not going to let me anywhere near him."

"You let me worry about, Rosalie, love and get your ass on a plane. I'll make sure you have the proper credentials once you've arrived. He's at John Hopkins."

"Thank you, Klaus."

"The man who loves you needs you, Bonnie. Don't let Rosalie or fate stand in the way. I'll see you when you get here."

Their lines disconnected. Klaus certainly sounded far more sure about her arrival than she did, but Bonnie knew that staying away from Damon while he was about to face the hardest time of his life would be stupid and impossible. Their personal drama aside, he was her friend and she made it her business to be there for her friends.

Decision made, Bonnie zipped around her room packing what she needed while barking at her assistant to find her the earliest flight to New York if she couldn't catch a flight straight to DC.

* * *

Once ending his phone call Klaus wasn't terribly surprised to see a frowning Rosalie glaring at him. Her honey colored eyes appeared like flames against her alabaster skin. After learning her husband had been involved in a serious accident, Rosalie tore herself away from her sorority sisters and was rushed off to meet Damon at John Hopkins Medical Facility.

"Is there something troubling you, First Lady?" Klaus asked drolly.

"I hope I'm just hearing things in my flustered state, but it sounded like you were on the phone with _that woman_," Rosalie practically growled. "I don't want her anywhere near my husband, Klaus."

Smiling broadly, Klaus pocketed his phone. "I'm sorry but you don't have much say in the matter because I'm reinstating Bonnie as Press Secretary the moment she arrives."

Rosalie's jaw hit the floor as color slowly crawled up her neck before settling in her cheeks and the tips of her ears. "You can't do that!"

"Actually I can," Klaus laid a hand over his heart. "Chief of Staff," he reminded her plaintively.

"We already have a press secretary!"

"Who was Bonnie's assistant before she resigned. During this troubled time I'm sure Amber Wright won't mind taking a step back while her old supervisor takes her _rightful _spot once more. I assure you it will only be for a short while."

"I don't care if she's press secretary for an hour," Rosalie argued. "If she goes near my husband then I go public—anonymously—about their affair."

All civility fled Klaus face so fast that it actually caused Rosalie to swallow her saliva down her windpipe. He cleared the space that separated them, caught Rosalie by the arm and dragged her down the hall and pressed up her against the wall. There was hardly any room between their bodies and from a distance they looked like a pair of lovers who couldn't seem to wait to get to a hotel.

The fury radiating off of Klaus was so palatable that Rosalie was finding it difficult to maintain eye contact without withering, and she was also finding it difficult to breathe.

"I would hate to advise you, First Lady of the ramifications your petty actions would cause not only to this administration but to you as well," his eyes dropped pointedly to her belly. Rosalie was tempted to cover it but she dare not make a move. "If you even _think _about exposing what happened between Damon and Bonnie, you would be starting a war declared by the White House itself with you as the lone defendant. You think you're going to have it hard now, just wait until that hammer lands on your head. You go this route then that means you'll be opening yourself up to some tough questions, madam. Such as: who really is the father of that bastard child growing in your belly?"

"I don't know what…"

Klaus held up his finger silencing the First Lady. "You know I have my ways of collecting information, and I know there is a particular secret service agent you are fond of, Rosalie."

A blush tinted the woman's cheeks, but she maintained eye contact with Klaus.

"You can't prove anything and what you have is probably circumstantial at best. Unlike my husband I've remained faithful."

Klaus smiled charmingly. "I'm sure you have been. But faithfulness seems to be a perception to some people. If you want to remain as First Lady then you keep your fucking mouth shut. Are we in anyway unclear?"

Rosalie wanted to be difficult but knew she had no cards left to play in this round. "Crystal."

"Good. Now you should go back in the waiting lobby, have one of your assistants bring you something to drink and to occupy your time."

Klaus stepped aside to let Rosalie pass. When she was half way down the hall he said, "And tell Agent Emmett Cullen I said hello the next time you see him."

Rosalie faltered in her steps but otherwise kept moving.

Klaus' phone rang. He saw who was calling and rolled his eyes. "Madam Vice President…no there has been no news about the President but we're all trying to remain hopeful…"

* * *

This plane wasn't moving fast enough. Bonnie tried to sit still and enjoy the fact she was riding in first class but she couldn't. Not without checking her phone a million times for news about Damon. Reports were pouring in from all over the world. Some reporting he was paralyzed others suggesting that Damon had been killed instantly during the crash, and the White House was reluctant to release that information. All of it made Bonnie grit her teeth.

She never should have left him. If she had toughed it out, and kept on pretending she hadn't done something stupid like fall in love with the President, Damon wouldn't have had a reason to get on that bike. They could have continued finding little places here and there on the grounds and in the White House itself to meet up and share a kiss, a hug, a grope. But no, she wanted to be the rational adult she pegged herself as being, do the honorable thing and leave.

Bonnie shook her head. Her fear was clouding her judgment. Breaking things off with Damon was a smart move—the only move—if she wanted to be technical about it. You couldn't have three people in a marriage. It wasn't legal to begin with, and she wasn't one prone to sharing. You could ask Bonnie for anything in the world so long as it was reasonable and she'd bend over backwards to give it to you, but when it came to her heart and the man she loved, that's where she drew the line on her generosity.

Her phone binged and she checked it pulling up the latest email from the current press secretary. Bonnie quickly read over the words and felt her blood pressure rising.

Apparently Vice President Isobel Fleming couldn't wait for official news about Damon and had taken it upon herself to land on the south lawn, a lawn only designated for the _President _to address the nation saying she would assume leadership until word came saying Damon was fit to run his office once more.

"What is she doing?" Bonnie pecked a message in all caps to Klaus and then cc'd nearly every member of the cabinet reminding them Isobel couldn't assume anything, and that she needed to pump her brakes.

Slouching against the leather seat, Bonnie looked out the window. Thinking.

How did she get here had been a question she frequently asked herself. When she first met Senator Damon Salvatore she looked beyond his uncanny good looks, and saw what was inside. He wasn't shallow. He was a man who lived life according to his own drummer which usually led him astray sometimes. But he had a heart deep down covered in a protective shell because he had been reared in an environment where very few people had any real faith in his abilities.

Honestly, she never sat out to sleep with or seduce him. Bonnie wouldn't cop out and say it just happened. It wasn't an accident. They knew what they were doing: the longing stares, the conversations that spilled over from late night to early morning, always finding a reason to be alone if it was just to talk about something mundane, the innocent touches, all of it paved a road to what took place during Fourth of July weekend.

Even now the memory was enough to induce heat to throb in her womb. Bonnie sucked her teeth at her train of thought. How could she think about Damon sexually when she wasn't sure if he'd be able to walk?

Still now that her mind was there, Bonnie remembered being crippled with guilt. That weekend it hadn't happened just once. It happened repeatedly and to the point Bonnie could hardly walk or sit down without giving it a lot of conscious thought. But she had made a deal with herself that that weekend would be it between them. It couldn't continue beyond North Carolina.

Damon had been furious with her when she suddenly cut everything off cold turkey. He was only to speak to her about matters related to the campaign. If he was having a get together, dinner, or a party, Bonnie never showed up. Things had become professional between them the way it was supposed to be, and even though she died each day on the inside, she knew it was for the best.

Until October rolled around.

Bonnie couldn't exactly wiggle her way out of his birthday party without a viable excuse, and seeing as how she didn't have one, she attended.

Clearing her throat, Bonnie saw herself sauntering into the Salvatore compound in her Grecian inspired cerulean number that flowed when she walked. Bonnie had greeted Damon with a handshake the only physical contact they had had since she called things off three months prior. And from that touch alone it sent a message to all her pink parts, and she was instantly horny.

Damon must have sensed it as well because a predatory look had come into his eyes. Bonnie got missing, mingled with the crowd, helped herself to the food, and then excused herself at some point to use the bathroom.

As she was leaving out to rejoin the party, she was grabbed and pulled into a room. She couldn't get a word or a scream out before her lips were plundered like a pirate sacking a ship and her dress was being hiked up.

When she managed to push the man away and she saw it was Damon, Bonnie was ready to slap his lips clean off his face, but she couldn't.

Why?

Because she wanted him.

She wasn't sure who attacked who but it was a race to see who could get undressed the fastest. Damon had pushed her down to the carpeted floor.

"Take 'em off," he ordered savagely and Bonnie had wasted no time wiggling her panties off and then spread her legs the minute Damon's cock popped out of his pants.

She hissed the minute he entered her, carving a path in her tunnel. It had been too long since she felt the weight of him on her and in her. It had been too long since he kissed her while dipping his tongue in her mouth at the same frequency as his hips pumped into her.

They didn't last very long before reaching the mountain top and tumbling off the other side.

"Would you care for a Pellegrino?"

The flight attendant startled Bonnie awake. "Excuse me?"

The flight attendant smiled shyly. "You kept clearing your throat so I assumed you might be parched. If you'd like something else I'd be glad to get it."

Bonnie reached for the bottle trying to cover up her embarrassment. "No this is fine, thank you. How much longer before we land?"

"Two hours."

That wasn't what Bonnie wanted to hear. Not at all. She smiled again. "Thank you."

Twisting off the cap, Bonnie drank greedily from the bottle before placing it on the little table beside her seat. Her fingers toyed with the necklace around her neck before they stilled. Grabbing it, she yanked it off and looked at the ring dangling from it.

It had been a Christmas present from Damon. He had asked her a very specific question when he presented this ring, and it was one she never gave him an answer to.

Would she wait for him?

It seemed that's all she had been doing from the moment they met. Waiting for him. Some days she could wait an eternity for Damon Salvatore, and other days she was tired of hanging in the balance.

Damon was the one literally hanging in the balance now, and she knew it would take a bold act on her part to draw him back to their side.

Her eyes continued to stare at that ring.

Wait? Could she?

* * *

When she made it to John Hopkins she wanted a shower and a decent meal, but Bonnie didn't think she'd be able to stomach anything since her belly was full of gas, tension, and anxiety. Just as Klaus had promised she was given the proper credentials and was ushered quickly through security. An entire floor had been blocked off just for Damon once he made it out of surgery.

Walking behind two secret service agents, Bonnie was shown to the "official lobby" and waiting there was Klaus, two of his trusted advisors, Governor Stefan Salvatore, and of course Rosalie.

Klaus spotted Bonnie first and crossed the lobby to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. As long as he stood beside her she could do this. She could slip back into the role she had before she tossed it all aside.

Those present stared at Bonnie. They knew her so they weren't gawking at her like you would a stranger trying to place whether you knew them or not. Several were just shocked to see her.

"Bonnie, thank you for coming," Governor Salvatore shook her hand and then pulled her in for an unexpected hug.

"It's good to see you, Governor I just wish it were under much better circumstances."

Stefan nodded, "Me, too," he agreed.

Rosalie stood from her chair, perhaps exaggerating a bit in trying to make light of her condition.

The two women squared off. Rosalie dropped a hand on her slightly protruding belly.

Bonnie used her left hand to fix her badge. That drew Rosalie's attention. A dark eyebrow rose in the air.

"Miss Bennett," Rosalie said succinctly.

"First Lady," Bonnie's greeting was just as chilly.

"Are congratulations in order?" Rosalie went on to ask.

Bonnie frowned but then looked at the ring on her left hand. "Not just yet."

Chapter end.

**A/N: Next up we'll find out exactly how badly injured Damon's spinal cord is. And what exactly is Bonnie trying to say by wearing the ring Damon gave her? And are we any closer to finding out if Damon is in fact the father of Rosalie's baby? Stay tuned, and thank you so much for reading. Love you!**


	6. No Ordinary Mistress

**A/N: Scandal is slowly but surely ruining my health! But I can't look away and I can't stop watching. Nothing in this chapter is exactly influenced by any episode that's aired thus far, but pretty much picks up where we left off. Read on to find out what goes down. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

Bonnie was nervous. The last time she felt this anxious about anything was just moments before she delivered her salutatorian speech at her Harvard Law graduation. And the only reason she twisted her fingers and broke out into a cold sweat then was because she had been battling a sinus infection, and was concerned about flubbing her words, not facing a crowd.

This kind of nervousness was different because it stemmed from fear. Since she had returned she had gone to her apartment to unpack, made a trip to the White House with Klaus where he promptly told the Vice President in no uncertain terms that she needed to sit her five dollar ass down before he made change. He reminded Isobel Fleming that she couldn't assume leadership of anything unless she had the votes of the cabinet members, and since they despised her guts, that whole situation was easily diffused.

Now Bonnie was back at John Hopkins hovering on the edge while Damon's team of physicians explained that for the last week they've had to keep him sedated because otherwise the pain of his injuries would have been too much. They were waiting for him to wake up so they could assess once and for all if he was paralyzed or sustained any brain damage since the CAT scans unfortunately turned out to be inconclusive.

Stefan had a made a joke about Damon's head being made out of concrete.

Bonnie watched as Rosalie constantly rubbed her slightly protruding bulge as if she were shining a bowling ball, or in her own vicious way trying to remind everyone in the vicinity that she was carrying "America's Baby". So far her encounters with the First Lady had been brief and strictly focused on business not personal issues—more to the matter—Damon.

She hadn't been allowed to enter his room but she did catch a glimpse of him when a few nurses went in to check his vital signs. The door had been left ajar and Bonnie peered in as much as the crack would allow, and could only make out his legs under the blanket. But the nurses had operated efficiently and quietly not wanting to disturb the President anymore than he already was.

Bonnie had been close and yet so far away.

Stefan approached her with a steaming cup of coffee. Since her return Bonnie had been operating off exhaust fumes and on autopilot. While living in Sweden she only slept a few hours every night because her racing mind refused to rest. She thrived off of projects and constantly having something to do, something where the focus wasn't explicitly on her. She was, in a sense, back in her element, yet Bonnie couldn't escape feeling like an intruder.

Klaus had upheld his word that he would have her reinstated as Press Secretary and so far Bonnie had delivered one press conference updating the Press Core and other delegates on Damon's prognosis. She had been told the bare minimum of his condition and what she knew she told very sparingly to others. They were trying to avoid inciting panic while making sure their enemies—both domestic and abroad—wouldn't try to capitalize on the fact that America for the most part was defenseless, leaderless. That wasn't necessarily true, but military action had to be approved by the President and right now he was decommissioned.

Smiling at the Governor, Bonnie took the Styrofoam cup and inhaled the rich brew. This certainly hadn't come from the hospital cafeteria.

"Have you slept at all since you've been back?" Governor Salvatore asked to make conversation.

"I'm nocturnal. I don't need sleep. What about you, Governor? You've been here just as much as I have. Not afraid that Maryland might fall behind the times in your absence?"

Stefan smiled ruefully. "What Maryland lacks in size makes up for in being self-sufficient. My brother needs me. He comes first."

Bonnie nodded. She could see why so many people admired Stefan. Some politicians could put on a good front that they cared about the people they represented and fought hard to pass legislation that would make life a little easier, but Stefan was one of the rare gems in the business who really tried to do what he said he'd do. And, he wasn't so bad on the eyes either. Physically he looked nothing like his older brother. Where Damon was raven-haired with a pair of Smurf blue eyes and pale skin, Stefan was olive toned, auburn-haired with chameleon eyes. Sometimes they were blue, sometimes gray, sometimes green. Right now they were bluish-gray.

Very briefly Bonnie thought back to the first time she met Stefan. He had arrived at Senator Damon Salvatore's headquarters amidst a crowd of applause. Damon had grumbled the whole time, but grudgingly greeted his brother and showed him around. When introductions had been made between Bonnie and Stefan he had taken her hand and kissed it and said he was happy to meet someone who had as much faith in his brother as he did.

Damon had rolled his eyes at the compliment thinking it was a well-played move. Bonnie took Stefan said with a grain of salt because it was obvious that things weren't all peaches and cream between the brothers. She only pried when Bonnie felt it was necessary. That something might be leaked to the press which could come back to bite them in the ass about the friction between Stefan and Damon. So she sat down with both brothers and asked them to hash out whatever differences they had beforehand. Before Stefan publicly endorsed his brother, and before their opponents could strike back with an off-color or snide remark Damon might have made about Stefan and vice versa.

Everyone on the planet knew that not all siblings got along.

And during this discussion Bonnie had learned that Damon and Stefan had been arrested for inciting a riot during a drunken brawl. Sure it may have happened when they were teenagers, but all anyone had to do was press a few of Damon's buttons when it came to Stefan and they would be right back there scraping in the street like a pair of thugs.

His campaign certainly couldn't afford that.

Thankfully Stefan didn't know about her involvement with Damon. All he and everyone who wasn't directly involved, meaning Klaus and Rosalie, needed to know was that Damon was her boss, her friend, and she was worried about him just like everyone else.

However, Bonnie was petrified. What if Damon woke up and he didn't remember her? It might have been a selfish thought but it didn't stop pummeling her when she found herself standing alone. It wouldn't matter to her if Damon was paralyzed either permanently or temporarily. She rather have him here—alive—than not have him at all.

Rosalie had already started complaining about the modifications that would have to be done to the White House if Damon did in fact have to be wheelchair bound.

"I heard you left for a while," Stefan said breaking Bonnie out of her reverie.

Bonnie nodded. She wasn't going to elaborate.

"If you're ready to wash your hands clean of the White House the state of Maryland would love to have you," he smiled charmingly. "I could certainly use someone with your talents and brains to help keep Maryland several steps ahead of facing a huge budgetary deficit. I know it's not as prestigious as working for the President, but the benefits are good. We offer Afflac."

Bonnie chuckled lowly. "I'm actually working for myself now. I'm only here temporarily."

Stefan stuffed his hands in his trousers and rocked on his heels. "Do you think he's going to be okay? The doctors are trying to remain hopeful, but from eyewitness accounts Damon's back crashed through the window."

Bonnie gulped. "Damon is a fighter. And stubborn." Stefan arched his eyebrows as if to say that was an understatement. "He always has been and whatever the case is he'll pull through. We just need to be strong for him."

Stefan nodded and then straightened when Klaus advanced on them. There was something about the Chief of Staff that had always unnerved Stefan. Like the man knew everyone's secret and was willing to strong arm them if they didn't fall into alignment with what he wanted.

"What's going on?" was the first thing to come out of Bonnie's mouth. Klaus wore only three expressions on his face: calculating, vindictive, and impassive. Right now he was looking calculating.

"There's a problem. Damon is out of sedation but he's refusing to wake up."

Stefan's eyebrows compressed together in a frown. "What do you mean he's refusing to wake up?"

"Leave it to your brother to be such a diva," Klaus criticized before dropping his gaze on Bonnie. "Rosalie is with him trying to coax him to open his eyes, but the stubborn bastard won't budge so the doctors can assess him. Something is telling me he needs a different kind of motivation."

The Chief of Staff and reinstated Press Secretary stared pointedly at one another knowing what had to be done.

Stefan looked between them positive there was something he was missing that he should be getting.

Nodding her head Bonnie moved beyond Klaus and Stefan and began to head towards Damon's room.

That nervous flutter began again deep in her gut accompanied by heart palpitations, and shortness of breath. Little white and black dots began to form in front of her eyes and the world went on a tailspin. The floor titled dangerously underneath her feet. Bonnie took in a deep breath and ordered herself to relax. She had nothing to be afraid of. She would see Damon, Damon would see her and things would fall back into place with several obvious obstacles in front of them. But they would deal with that just like how they dealt with everything.

Together.

Twisting the ring on her finger, Bonnie found the way to Damon's room barred by his two most trusted secret service agents. They shifted their attention when they sensed her standing behind them. Bonnie tried to smile but her facial muscles were fossilized.

Secret Service Agent Connor Jordan swept Bonnie briefly with his eyes before stepping aside.

Entering the room, Bonnie's eyes landed on the three doctors who were hovering around Damon's bed trying to elicit a response from him. Rosalie was perched on the edge of his bed holding on to his hand begging Damon to open his eyes.

Bonnie felt someone standing behind her and when she looked over her shoulder she was thankful it was Klaus. Bonnie knew she had no real authority to ask that the room be cleared so she could have a moment with Damon, but Klaus did.

Stefan hovered just outside of the door. He had just as much right as Rosalie to be inside Damon's room, but for whatever reason he was hanging back.

The doctors and Rosalie brought their attention to the new arrivals. Rosalie glowered at Bonnie and quickly dismissed her by returning her gaze to Damon.

"Still nothing?" Klaus asked the lead doctor.

Dr. Carmine Pettigrew shook his head. "We'll give him another half hour."

"Do you mind if she gives it a try?" Klaus inclined his head in Bonnie's direction. "She has a way with him that is unparalleled."

Bonnie wanted to elbow Klaus in the ribs for that yet kept her face sheepish.

Rosalie was off the bed in an instant. "She has no business being here in the first-,"

Klaus cut her off with a deadly look in his eye and a raised hand. Rosalie snapped her jaws shut. She looked pleadingly at Stefan hoping he'd take the reins since Damon was his brother, and tell Klaus what circle of hell he could go to and to take Bonnie with him.

While all of that had taken place Bonnie had yet to remove her eyes from the bed. Damon was there but since Rosalie was blocking his upper body with hers she couldn't see his face. One of his legs was in a cast, along with his left arm. There were numerous machines surrounding his bed each of them monitoring his breath, pulse, and blood pressure.

She wasn't sure what had occurred while she tuned out the sound of slightly raised voices, but she felt Klaus' hand on her back pushing her closer to the bed. Rosalie had reluctantly stepped aside while Stefan came to stand next to her, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder.

The tightness in Bonnie's chest refused to budge not even when she finally saw Damon's face with her own two eyes.

She laughed in relief but her chuckles stopped abruptly before her eyes lined with tears. His face was fine, other than a few cuts along his jaw it was perfect.

The rest of him not so much.

He was wearing a neck brace that looked it was cutting off the circulation to his head. A breathing apparatus covered his nose and mouth. There were several bloody splotches on his hospital gown. His left hand was all black and blue and Bonnie was sure that was his bone peeking through the skin of his knuckle. Her eyes fluttered to get rid of her tears but also so she wouldn't focus on his more grotesque injuries.

Time got suspended and out of her peripheral she saw Stefan whisper something to Damon before lightly squeezing his right shoulder. Rosalie was escorted out of the room, Klaus and Stefan following. It was just Bonnie, Damon, his doctors, and the SS standing outside of his door.

Very tentatively Bonnie sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up Damon's uninjured hand. His fingers were ice cubes.

"Damon?"

XXXXX

_Where the fuuuuuuu…ammmm I? His head felt several sizes too big for his shoulders, and he was sure any moment now he was going to vomit._

"Damon, if you can hear me open your eyes."

_Wait. I know that voice._

"Damon."

_It was taking all of his energy and concentration just to lift his eyelids. He felt impossibly heavy. Displaced and weighed down by some inhuman substance. He tried to move his limbs but there was a void there—emptiness. Something wasn't right._

Bonnie squeezed Damon's fingers as tears fell unchecked from her eyes. "Damon, please," she nearly whispered.

The doctors shifted and passed indecipherable gazes amongst each other.

_He had never felt so tired in his life, but he was fighting with everything in him to shake off this grogginess. Someone was here. Holding his hand. The touch strong but also delicate. He knew this person's skin. Intimately. This person was in reaching distance, possibly closer. All he had to do was move but his muscles weren't receiving the message. Come on, Damon. You can do this. _

"Damon if you don't open your fucking eyes right this second I'm walking out of this room and I'm never coming back."

_That did it. He leapt off the proverbial spring board and instead of splashing through water, he was attacked with blinding white light. _

His vision was out of focus but that was the least of his worries. Someone gasped sharply and when he looked to his right that's when he saw her.

Damon blinked several times to clear his vision but it still wasn't good enough. Surely he wasn't seeing things properly. He was imagining this moment. This was a dream. Not a very good or entertaining one. Her face was heart-shaped, her skin gold, a cloud of thick dark hair seemed to move on an invisible wind. She was smiling at him, whoever this angel was. And that's where Damon had one terrifying thought. That he was dead this was heaven but without _her_ being here with him this had to be hell.

Pain was rumbling through him like a thunderstorm and he tried to push it all back, stave it off, but it wasn't working. He wasn't strong enough for that. So he latched on to her face, drunk her in, inhaled her scent past the staleness of the room.

_Lift your arm, Damon and touch her_. That was the command he issued and it went unheeded. He was going to panic in a little bit if she didn't do something to anchor him.

Bonnie, mouth agape, was unable to move, think, or look away from the scared and confused gaze in Damon's eyes. His chest rose and fell rapidly. The machines monitoring his vitals were beginning to beep alarmingly.

The doctors moved into action thinking he might be slipping into cardiac arrest. They tried to push Bonnie out of the way, but she wouldn't budge. She wouldn't let go of Damon's hand. She couldn't because as tightly as she held on to him he held on to her even tighter. She needed to get him to calm down immediately.

"Damon, Damon, Damon," she cooed softly and stood up so he could see a better angle of her face. "You're safe. It's okay. Just breathe, baby, breathe."

Thankfully the doctors were too busy going through their protocols to realize her endearment slip.

"We need you to move!" yelled one of the attending doctor's at Bonnie.

"She's not going anywhere," Damon said lowly, nearly inaudibly. His voice coarse like wool.

All activity in the room shut itself down.

"Mr. President…?"

His breathing mask had been removed and Damon was taking deep gasping inhalations. "Leave."

"Mr. President we need to do our assessment. You've been in a serious accident…"

"I said _leave_," Damon growled.

The doctors traded dubious glances with one another before shuffling out of the room. Yet Dr. Pettigrew hung back and said to Bonnie.

"You have five minutes."

Bonnie nodded and then shook her head. Five minutes. Their time with one another would always be regulated to minutes.

Damon tried to sit up but it was impossible. From what he could tell there wasn't a part of him that wasn't strapped down to something.

But then something was off. He couldn't…he couldn't…

Bonnie halted him by placing her tiny hand on the center of his chest. "Damon, please don't try to move."

He settled down instantly wishing he could turn his head to look at her. Bonnie adjusted on the bed to make it easier for Damon but she doubted anything she tried to do would take away what he must be feeling on the inside.

"It looks like my plan worked," Damon wheezed.

Bonnie licked her lips. "What plan?"

"To get into an accident to get you back here."

Snorting, Bonnie took in a deep breath, held it before releasing it. "I don't know why you insist on going to extremes just to get your way. It's not cute."

"I think so."

Bonnie rose from the bed to pour him a cup of water. Damon's eyes widened because he thought she was leaving, but then he relaxed when he saw, although not very clearly what she was doing. Taking the straw by the stem Bonnie directed it towards his mouth where Damon guzzled and nearly choked himself.

"Slow down. That's your problem. You always try to rush your way through everything."

"Did you come all the way back here just to nag me?"

"Yes."

"Good," Damon coughed and winced because pain took a hot pan to his back.

"Damon let me get your doctors."

"No…not yet. I'm…fine."

"No you're not. I know you're in agony."

"Just stay with me. That's all I want. The pain is secondary. Just stay. In fact get closer to me."

Bonnie looked doubtful. She knew that certain men didn't have a high tolerance when it came to pain. Most cried like children if they stubbed their toe on furniture and she could only imagine what Damon must be experiencing. His eyes periodically rolled into the back of his head. It wasn't uncommon for people to slip in and out of consciousness, and his doctors needed to examine him so they'd be able to put to rest their fears or deal with them like a giant.

Retaking her post, Bonnie grabbed his hand. A little warmth had returned to it, but not much.

"Closer," Damon prompted.

If she slid any closer she'd be sitting on him and Bonnie imagined that's exactly what Damon wanted.

"My lips are cold," Damon said petulantly.

Bonnie tried not to smile. She stood up a little, placing her knee on the bed to balance herself as she rose above Damon, bracing her hands on the mattress. She leaned until her nose touched the tip of his.

"What do you want me to do about that?" she asked quietly.

"You know _exactly _what I want you to do about that."

Bonnie pursed her lips. "You haven't been out of sedation for five minutes and already you're making demands. I don't know what we all so worried for."

"Lips, Bonnie," Damon ignored her complaint.

She stared into his eyes for a moment familiarizing herself with their color and shape before clearing the space that separated them. Her lips touched his gently, molding, contouring until they were meshed together perfectly. His bottom lip was chapped but Bonnie easily remedied that problem by dragging her tongue across it. Damon's heart monitor began to beep a little faster, and then really went off the moment their tongues touched and teased one another.

Heat was rising so rapidly that it left Bonnie breathless. Sensibly this was the time to pull away, but she had gone three months—maybe longer—without tasting any part of Damon. Seconds were ticking off the clock and if Rosalie got her way, this would be the only time Bonnie would be permitted to be alone with Damon.

Damon moaned a little as his taste buds began throwing a celebration in the far recesses of his mouth. She was here. She was back. And she was his. He nibbled her lips with just the right amount of pressure, at a speed to which he knew Bonnie liked. He wanted to touch her, desperately, but this would have to suffice. He poured all of his love and devotion into this one kiss hoping it would be enough to convince Bonnie to never leave him again.

Taking his top lip between hers and lightly biting it, Bonnie pulled away and cleared her throat, needing a moment to compose herself.

"_Bonnie_," Damon whispered savoring her name. He was becoming groggy again. Unconsciousness was being pulled up like a blanket and was just minutes maybe even seconds away from covering him. He tried to fight it. His lips tingled from their kiss and he relied on that sensation to keep him lucid.

"Just rest, Damon."

"Stay."

"I'm not leaving you."

He graced her with a lopsided smirk. "You mean that?"

Bonnie held up her left hand to show him the ring. The ring he had given her. The promise he had asked of her. It wasn't until she saw him that Bonnie knew she couldn't just walk away from Damon. They were facing an uphill battle there was no denying that, but she wouldn't leave him. Not without causing herself pain in the process. And she was tired of fighting the truth.

His nose tingled and a tear slipped from the corner of his eye. Why did it have to take _this _to happen for her to decide to wait for him? Why did he have to go to the extreme like he always did just to prove a point? Time and circumstances had never been a friend to them, but Damon hadn't helped their case any by crashing his bike and ending up in the hospital. He was more helpless than a premature baby and the woman he loved was going to stick by his side. Deep down Damon knew he didn't deserve Bonnie. She was too good to him and _for _him. But he was too selfish and greedy and crazy in love to give her up.

He had to make this right. Perfect.

"Find the chaplain…tell him to come here."

Bonnie thought he meant he was dying, but Damon rasped out a laugh.

"No, not for _that_," he clarified to squash that horrified expression on her face. "We're getting married."

"How much morphine are you on?" Bonnie chided.

Damon attempted to laugh again but the motion jarred his ribs. Everything was beginning to scream now. "Maybe too much…I can't feel…my legs."

"WHAT?!"

The door to the room burst open. Secret Service, his doctors, Rosalie, Klaus, Stefan, and some other people flooded Damon's hospital room. Bonnie stared at all of them frantically.

"H-he can't feel his legs," Bonnie stuttered.

Everyone froze before activity resumed again. Carts were brought in and Damon's legs and feet were prodded with different types of instruments to gauge his response to them. No matter what was used all Damon could reply with was…

"No…I can't…I can't….feel…that."

Rosalie nearly passed out and had to be carted out of the room. Klaus cursed in several languages as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Stefan cried in a corner. And Bonnie through it all had remained stoic and locked eyes with Damon anytime he picked her face out of the crowd for support.

"This isn't surprising," Dr. Pettigrew concluded once he and the rest of the physicians had come to a unanimous decision. "Several vertebrae in the thoracic and lumbar region of your back were shattered and the nerves that innovative the muscles in that area have been compromised."

"So what you're saying is…?" Klaus snapped impatiently.

"What I'm saying is that the President is paralyzed from the waist down." Several people cursed and muttered and paced wildly. "This may all be temporary we'll just have to monitor your prognosis, Mr. President. In the meantime there are several therapies we can try that can stimulate the nerves in your body to fire. We have to take things one day at time, but right now you need your rest."

"I want a second opinion," Damon requested stubbornly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President but we've seen these kinds of injuries before and any other doctor will only come to the same conclusion."

"I want another orthopedic surgeon to examine me," Damon turned his furious orbs on Klaus. "Get Dr. Meredith Sulez here now!"

Dr. Pettigrew straightened up his spine resisting the urge to sniff. Dr. Sulez, in his honest opinion was more of a witch doctor than an actual world renowned surgeon, but the woman was one the best and most respected in the field.

Klaus curtly nodded his head. "I'm on it."

Dr. Pettigrew used what little authority he had left to say, "Everyone clear the room. The President needs his rest."

Damon wanted Bonnie to stay but knew that would raise some brows if he requested his Press Secretary and not his wife to remain by his side. His life had just been turned upside because of his high strung ways and he was paying the price for it. Paralyzed. From the waist down. Not able to walk. Holy shit not able to fuck! This wasn't making sense. They were wrong! He could feel he just couldn't _feel. _Being alone was the last thing he wanted but he couldn't stomach the idea of being trapped inside this room, inside his body with anyone who wasn't Bonnie.

Bonnie knew Damon well and knew that he was trying to hold on to his composure that was falling through the cracks. She quickly approached him and whispered in his ear.

"Remember that I'm here for you no matter what. Come hell, high water or no water at all, I love you. Remember that, Damon."

He locked eyes with her, eyes that were filling with tears. Damon believed her, but then she had made a similar promise not to leave and she did anyways. Not that he blamed her for making that decision, but that situation was a far cry from his current predicament.

Flashing him a smile and wiping the tears away from the back of her hand, Bonnie left his room.

XXXXX

She marched out into the hall, walked about twenty feet away from his room and collapsed against the wall.

Closing her eyes Bonnie felt the dizziness returning. Her Damon, the man she loved, paralyzed. Living out the rest of his days in a wheelchair if it came down to that. That would crush him because Damon was larger than life sometimes, couldn't be stopped or contained. He would hate it. Resentment would fester and then explode and they were all in range of being consumed with his fury. He'd begin to hate them all one by one and Bonnie was assured there'd only be so many times she could tell Damon she loved him before he stopped believing her. His love for her could turn into irritation, and then it wouldn't be long before he pointed his finger in her direction and blame her for how things turned out.

The tapping of heels broke her out of her reverie and Bonnie wiped the last remaining tears off her face and stood to her full height. Inwardly she groaned when she saw that it was Rosalie who was approaching her like a wild animal that had just escaped captivity.

She was expecting to be slapped, but Rosalie stopped abruptly. She locked eyes with Bonnie. Rosalie's tawny colored orbs seemed to glow until they resembled flames.

"Whatever future you think you can build with Damon is out of the question. He needs me! Not you and I don't appreciate you coming in here and trying to run things as if you never left," Rosalie spat.

Bonnie wouldn't give in and rise to the occasion like Rosalie was practically salivating that she'd do. She would take the high road. Maybe.

"We were friends once," Bonnie began somberly. "We were on the same team, on the same page, on the same side."

Rosalie curled her lip. "We were never friends. You were just the hired help to get _my husband _into office. Anything I shared with you wasn't because I liked you. It was because I had an objective and I played you for the fool you are. Just like my husband."

If Bonnie was supposed to bristle under the implication that Damon was only using her as a concubine, Rosalie was about to get a rude awakening. She didn't know her husband as well as she thought she did, and she might want to stop talking before she embarrassed herself.

"Thank you, Rosalie because now you've absolved me of feeling guilt," Bonnie replied coolly.

"Guilt? Don't insult me," the First Lady snorted.

"Yes, now I don't feel guilty for betraying a friend since you just said we're not friends."

"Then that makes you an even bigger bitch than I suspected. Don't you know how this story ends? He's never going to leave me," Rosalie waved her hand down her body, "for you," and pointed at Bonnie and drew closer to her. "This is all your fault. You wormed your way into my husband's pants and I might have been able to forgive and forget about that, but you weren't satisfied and got inside his head. You screwed him all up. Made him think he could do whatever the hell he wanted consequences be damned, and that's why he got on that stupid motorcycle and landed us here! What the hell is America supposed to do with a _crippled_ president? What am I supposed to do with him?"

Bonnie shook her head. This woman was unbelievable yet this told Bonnie where Rosalie priorities and loyalties lied.

Not with Damon.

"Believe it or not, Rosalie Damon is a grown man who is capable of making his own fucking decisions. Sure, I'm at fault for getting involved with a married man, and its something I regret and never should have done. But you want to know the difference between you and me?"

"Class?" Rosalie sniffed haughtily.

It took an act of God for Bonnie to maintain her composure. "You're his wife on paper. His political prop. Me? I'm the wife of his _heart_," and in a slightly vindictive move Bonnie shoved her left hand in Rosalie's face so she could get a good look at her promise ring from Damon. The gloves were off now. There was no more pretending that she didn't want to be in Damon's life.

Rosalie's eyes fell to the ring. Some of her earlier bravado leaked out of her like oil in a car, but it was easily replaced with white-hot rage.

"Paper can be burned," Bonnie continued. "Shredded, thrown away, discarded. The heart…not nearly as disposable. Enjoy what time you have left with the President because your days are officially numbered. Have a good day, First Lady."

Pivoting in her boots, Bonnie walked away.

Seething, Rosalie rushed back to the lobby and collected her purse. She needed a favor and she needed that favor now! Before she lost everything.

Rushing out of the hospital Rosalie put in a call. She tapped her foot waiting for the person on the other end to pick up.

"Hey, I know you told me to only call if it were something direly important." Rosalie took a breath. "Well it is."

Chapter end.

**A/N: Now what is Rosalie up to? I doubt she's on the phone with Tyrone, but we'll see how things will continue to unfold. And Damon's paralysis is it permanent or temporary, and what exactly might this do to his psyche, his presidency, and his relationship with Bonnie? Thank you kittens for reading and thank you in advance for your feedback. They are definitely food for my soul. Until next time. Love you! **


	7. Game Changer

**A/N: Hello everyone! My apologies for a long wait for an update. There was a matter I had to address and I did so on Tumblr in regards to a review I received. I won't rehash that, but I will say this and this will be the final time I bring this up. And this isn't directed at everyone. **

**This story is based on TVD/Scandal if it comes off reading more like Scandal, ****I'm very much aware of that****. So please don't waste your time or mine letting me know that, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. If it's an issue please exit stage left, if its not continue reading. Nevertheless, thank you everyone for your patience while I battled it out with my muse, and for the love and support. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

Damon Salvatore began to feel like a fossilized version of himself. Only two weeks had passed since his second experimental spinal cord surgery, and though Dr. Meredith Sulez tried to reassure him that everything was successful and his prognosis looked promising, he invariably felt the same, which meant he felt NOTHING!

His precarious situation wasn't helped any because he was constantly surrounded by "yes men". A stream of people from doctors, nurses, his staff, even family kept telling him the same utter bullshit.

…_You look great_…

…_There's been vast improvement_…

…_You'll be dancing any day now, Sir…_

Lies, they were all lies. Damon didn't want to hear that shit. The only people he relied on to tell him the truth unfortunately weren't experts on neuroplasty.

Right now his eyes were focused on the flatscreen television mounted on the wall. The volume was cut down low, but he didn't need the volume anyways. Speaker of the House Alaric Saltzman was too busy yipping in his ear about coming to some sort of compromise about the healthcare overhaul, but Damon now receiving his own medical treatment could really care less about any of that. Yes, it was his dream at one point for all Americans to be able to have access to affordable healthcare and not get screwed over or turned away from insurance companies because of preexisting conditions, but he had his own condition to worry about which wasn't putting him in the right frame of mind to be objective.

He was getting agitated with his own thoughts so he kept his gaze locked on the TV screen more to the matter he kept his eyes focused on Bonnie as she updated the press about a myriad of issues happening overseas and also divvying up news about his supposed "miraculous" recovery.

She looked beautiful standing outside of the White House, the wind blowing through her chocolate hair that she had chosen to wear in loose curls. Her suit was navy blue, the blazer cut in all the right places and cinched her waist and showed just how delicate her shoulders were. His eyes dropped down to her mouth and he licked his lips at the way hers shaped to pronounce certain words. Her eyes never made direct contact with the camera, not until the very end where she would look straight ahead knowing that he was watching her. She'd offer up a soft smile that made his heart speed in his chest. It was her clandestine way of telling him "Hello, I miss you, I love you".

Damon sighed.

"Mr. President?"

Damon purposely ignored Saltzman hoping he'd take his dejected expression as his cue to exit.

"Mr. President, are you feeling okay? Should I get your doctor?"

"Leave," Damon said without taking his eyes off the TV screen. The press conference was winding down and he wanted to be alone when Bonnie would send him her special shout out.

Alaric licked his lips and momentarily looked at the TV screen since it seemed to be so fascinating to Damon. It was Bonnie Bennett of course, updating everyone on various happenings around the world. Alaric didn't feel one way or the other about Bonnie. He liked her in a professional sense because she was driven and did her job without trying to meddle. Unlike the First Lady, and yeah she was beautiful, but again in his opinion nothing to write home about. Alaric was curious as to what exactly was making the president so distracted because clearly his mind wasn't in the room. Was it the White House looming in the background? Or was it the woman on the tube?

"In case you have any interest in knowing this," Alaric tried to recapture Damon's attention even though he had been ordered to leave, "letters from concerned people from all over the nation have been coming in. They want answers. They want to know if the American government is really going to try to dictate their lives and force them to get something a lot of people feel they don't need. We need to come to some kind of agreement and soon."

Damon snapped his head to look at Alaric who immediately shut his trap at the fierce look crossing his face.

"In case _you _haven't noticed I have far more important issues to deal with on my hands than worrying about Mary Sue and George and their gotdamn health problems. I know this was my idea but I don't need you chirping in my ear about it. You'll hear from my staff soon enough. Now, _leave!_"

Heat spread through Alaric and he grit his teeth having to swallow the flow of insults that was ready to spew from his lips. Damon better realize that _he _was third in line to the presidency if anything should happen to his precious little raven-haired self and that she-bitch Isobel Fleming. He had power too, gotdamnit. Probably more than him.

Alaric stood up from his seat, and tried to flatten out his features knowing that his cheeks were probably a burning red.

"Mr. President," he said snidely and left the room.

Damon shook his head and then finally grabbed the remote and turned up the volume so he could hear Bonnie's voice. Her voice, her face, just seeing her helped suppressed the pain that had latched onto his spine and bones like a wailing child. She was better than morphine and already he was fiening for his next hit.

"_If there aren't anymore questions I'd like to thank you all for coming. We'll try to keep you updated on all that was discussed at today's forum. Thank you_," Bonnie smiled what Damon would consider a pageant girl smile as she looked at the assembled press core before finally bringing her attention straight to the camera. Her smile widened, got even brighter before the feed was cut and Channel 5 anchorwoman Michelle Birmingham came back on the air.

Losing all interest, Damon cut off the TV. Naturally seeing Bonnie in high definition wasn't enough. He wanted her here in this room with him that was slowly beginning to feel like a prison.

His physical therapy would start in another week and he wasn't looking forward to it. Meredith said she wanted to begin with transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation to help ease the pain of his injury and subsequent surgeries. In Damon's opinion that sounded even more painful, but whatever. He'd have to deal with the pain if he wanted to regain full use of his limbs.

Constantly he touched his legs. He could see his hand examining them but he felt absolutely nothing. Not even a phantom sensation. It unnerved him, made him feel like a freak, and he tried not to dwell on it, but it was virtually impossible. Being a vegetable from the waist down had never even factored into his long-term plans. Damon had always been virile, full of life, always on the go. He hated being idle unless of course he was with Bonnie where he wanted time to slow down, crawl to a stop. But those days were seemingly over.

Then something one of his professors said to Damon came back to him. Powerful men always long for a simpler life. How right the man would turn out to be.

Someone knocked on his door and Damon groaned. "Come in," he bellowed.

It was Stefan. Inwardly Damon rolled his eyes but kept his face blank.

"Hey, man," Stefan sat down in the chair that Alaric had occupied. "How are you feeling?"

The urge to snap at Stefan's stupid ass question was strong, so strong that Damon could see the words coming out of his mouth, but he merely replied as calmly as possible:

"I feel like a science experiment, Stefan. I've been stuck in this hospital for weeks. I'm so high on morphine that I've developed a tolerance to it because it's not doing anything for me anymore. I just want this whole mess to be over and done with."

Stefan leaned over and gripped Damon's shoulder. He couldn't imagine what his brother was going through. Between the two of them Damon had been the firecracker, the rebel rouser. He did what he pleased and was completely unapologetic about it. Being sidelined like this had to be killing him.

"I wish there was something I could do for you," Stefan said.

Damon made a guttural noise in the back of his throat. "Of course you would, Stefan. It's what you do. Try to shoulder everyone's problems like they're your own. That's why you're governor of Maryland."

Stefan didn't smile because he knew Damon wasn't complimenting him. Removing his hand he stared at the various machines outfitting his brother's bed. "Where's Rosalie?"

Damon's lip curled. "She annoys me so it's best that she stays away. Besides she's doing her own thing. And since we're on the topic of wives…how's Lexi doing?"

Stefan smiled, "She's good. She wants to come by and see you, but with the kids in school and all the boards she sits on, finding time has been difficult. I'll let her know you asked about her." Pause. "Rosalie should be here with you, Damon."

"Rosalie is a bitch. New topic."

Stefan didn't know what to say after that. He knew his brother's marriage was less than ideal, but he didn't think things were quite this bad. "Have you eaten anything today? You turn into an even bigger asshole when you're hungry."

Damon's lips twitched to keep from smiling, "Yes, _mother _I had breakfast and it wasn't so terrible today. They must have brought in my favorite chef to cook because there's no way in the _world_ I would ever consent to eating hospital food."

"Probably. Wouldn't want to lose funding because the president died of food poisoning while being treated at one of the leading hospitals in the nation," Stefan sat back in his chair.

Damon observed his brother who was attired in a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and a pair of gabardine pants. "Aren't you supposed to be…I don't know…working?"

Stefan hunched his shoulders, made a steeple of his fingers and placed them behind his head. "That's why I have a talented staff to handle the workload when I have more important things to do, like get on your nerves." A beat. "I'm sure Maury is on," Stefan smiled.

Damon snorted and turned the TV back on. This was definitely a Kodak moment. Two leaders watching a show where women proclaimed to be a thousand percent sure that XYZ is the father. Father and baby have the same ears so there's no question of paternity because yeah that solved the mystery. Whatever, Damon thought. So long as he could watch other people and their problems he could forget about his for a while.

* * *

Sitting up against the headboard, journal balanced on her bent knees, Bonnie tapped her pen against the page—her mind an annoying blank. She was back in her apartment in DC no longer feeling like she was living underneath a microscope. Everyone's main concern was the President, and since she was his liaison—in more ways than one—everyone crowded around her greedy for answers, for a morsel of gossip that would have tongues wagging like Pavlov's dogs.

Dr. Meredith Sulez had been flown from overseas where she had been hosting a round of symposiums on the emergence of nanotechnology to repair spinal cord injuries. Damon had been adamant he didn't want to see another doctor until she arrived to give her professional opinion on the state of his paralysis.

There was hope for Damon in the form of an experimental surgery, but attached to that hope was patience and it wasn't exactly something the Commander in Chief had in buckets.

Her phone rang, startling her a bit. Bonnie stared at it wondering if it was another thirsty reporter who was looking for her to throw a bone, show some favor. Picking up the cordless, Bonnie pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"What are you wearing?"

Her smile was instantaneous. "You shouldn't be calling me."

"Last I checked I had the world at my disposal meaning I could do whatever the hell I want."

Bonnie sat her journal aside. "Everyone has limits, even you."

"I beg to differ. Seriously, though, what are you wearing? I need a visual. Hell I'll take a PowerPoint presentation right about now."

"Mr. Pres-,"

"Nope," he interrupted her. "I'm not that…not when we're on the phone like this doing anything _but _discussing business. I'm merely…Damon and that's what I want you to say. I need to hear you say my name."

Biting her lip, Bonnie slid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Why is that so important to you?" Bonnie questioned. "You've heard me say your name in a thousand different tones since…we met."

Her question was met with a wall of silence. "It makes me… it's just the way you say it like…I make you happy on top of pissing you off and making you frustrated. It doesn't grate on my nerves because I love the sound of your voice… so damn self-righteous it's sexy."

Bonnie laughed a bit while Damon chuckled.

"So say it," Damon prodded.

"I'll say it when I'm good and ready to say it. What did you get done today?"

Damon groaned. "I don't want to talk about work. Do you know what my tongue would be doing to you right now if we were together?"

Bonnie grabbed her spare pillow and stuffed it over her face. "You really do have a one track mind."

"I'm bored. Make up some excuse to come here and see me. I'll send Connor to pick you up because thankfully he's discreet and doesn't say much."

Shaking her head, Bonnie sat up in bed. "Damon, I'm sure you think you have a bit more freedom now that you're out of the White House, but sadly it doesn't change who you are. I can't just…I can't just drop by like I'm visiting my boyfriend."

"But I am…right?"

"Ah…what do you think? You can't be a husband and a boyfriend at the same time."

Of course her remark would go unanswered. The two of them never really discussed or had the chance to talk about the fact that Bonnie was wearing the ring Damon had given her last Christmas. In all honesty if anyone—aside from those who were already hip to the situation—knew the extent of her involvement with the leader of the free world they would shit an entire zoo. Some mornings Bonnie woke up scratching her own head questioning her intelligence and integrity for falling for a man who was not only married but President. Even if by some miracle Damon emancipated himself from his sham of a marriage he'd still be married to America, and a marriage with close to a billion people in it was more than a "little" crowded.

"This has got to stop between us," Damon's voice came back on the line. Bonnie wasn't completely sure what he meant by that. "I know you want to respect my marriage but its over! It's been over."

"Damon…"

"You said my name."

Bonnie paused and then shook her head ruefully. "Can you please be serious for the next five minutes?"

"Fine," Damon replied listlessly.

"There are exactly two things I want you to do. The first being I want you to concentrate on your health. That's more important than me and where we stand. I'm here…I have no plans to go anywhere so you don't need to worry about that. The second thing I want you to do is… not be difficult when you start your therapy."

"Give me some credit, woman. I'm not that bad."

Bonnie gave an un-ladylike snort. "Umm…have you met you when you're having a particularly shitty day?"

"If I promise to be a good boy does that mean I get some kind of reward?"

Bonnie felt her skin heating at the suggestive turn Damon's voice took. "Damon…" before Bonnie could get another word out, someone knocked on her door. "Hold on. Someone's at the door."

"Who?"

Bonnie pursed her lips at his suspicious tone. "I don't know, obviously."

"You're not expecting anyone?"

"No, I'm not. It might be Klaus. Just hold on." Removing the cordless from her ear, Bonnie looked out of her peephole, and then opened her door. The chain was still attached just in case. One could never be too trusting these days. "Yes?"

"Hi, sorry to bother you but does this handsome little guy belong to you?"

Bonnie looked at the appallingly handsome man who was probably in his late twenties early thirties, broad shouldered, olive skin with rippling jet black hair and blue eyes. He nearly looked identical to Damon, which was startling in and of itself, but the man standing on the other side of her door didn't have a devilish tint to his eyes. The yelp of the miniature poodle in the man's hands drew Bonnie's attention.

"Ah, no that's not my dog. Actually I've never seen that dog in this building before." Then Bonnie realized that she hadn't lived here in the past three months and that dog very well could belong to one of her neighbors.

"That's too bad," the man petted the dog's salt and pepper fur.

"It doesn't have a collar?" Bonnie asked.

"No. I'm Josh Harmon by the way and I live in 1115 if anyone happens to come by looking for this dog. Can you pass that along?"

Bonnie nodded her head.

"Again, I'm sorry to bother you," Josh said and flashed a cinematic smile that made Bonnie momentarily forget she knew how to speak.

"No, its okay you're just trying to be a Good Samaritan," Bonnie smiled back.

"You have a good night," Josh began to shuffle down the hall.

"You, too," Bonnie closed her door and then remembered she had Damon waiting on the line. She hastily returned the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Took you long enough. Who was it?"

Bonnie ran a hand through her hair as she made her way back to her bedroom. "It was a neighbor. Someone lost a dog and he was just checking to see who it belonged to. What were we talking about?"

"Seriously?" Damon deadpanned. "You were about to tell me what my reward would be for being on my best behavior while in therapy."

Sliding back under the covers, Bonnie sighed. "I don't remember agreeing to that. You're a grown man, Damon you shouldn't need to be bribed to act like one."

"Well burn me why don't you."

"I just did."

"Touché."

"Let's talk about something else."

"We can talk about this. I'm trying to arrange being moved to my house in North Carolina, but everyone seems to think that's a bad idea. I hate hospitals, and I know I'd recover better if I were somewhere more comfortable. Plus…that would mean less security detail and you could come down at least two weekends out of the month and play nurse."

Bonnie didn't need to see the naughty smirk on Damon's face to know it was there. She could detect it in his voice. "Is that how you think I want to spend my time?" she challenged.

"I think you want to be next to the man you love in any way you can get him," Damon replied smugly.

"Well moving you might be good. With the wonders of technology you can teleconference. Klaus can remain in Washington to oversee everything. You can still be briefed, make decisions."

"Oh, but I thought you wanted me to concentrate on my health?"

"Well…run the country as well. That's your job, dude."

"Nope, I'm putting in for worker's comp."

"You weren't injured on the job, Damon," Bonnie brutally reminded him. "You went joy riding on your bike and got into an accident."

"I am the job, Bonnie. Stop by the hospital tomorrow. I don't care what you have on your itinerary. I think I take priority. The President requests an audience with you, milady."

Bonnie snickered. "I'll squeeze you in."

"Squeeze me in?" Damon said incredulously. "Squeeze me in," he grinned. "Sounds promising."

"Your mind stays in the gutter," Bonnie criticized.

"It swims laps in it actually. And hopefully with Dr. Sulez's revolutionary surgery my um…little big soldier won't remain down for long."

Leave it to Damon to worry about his man-parts.

"It's late, Damon."

"Kicking me off the phone?"

"If I don't get off now we'll talk until morning and how will you explain the phone bill to the Treasury Department?"

"Well those nerds need something to do. All right, fine. So will I see you tomorrow?"

Bonnie pretended to think of her answer when she already had it. "Yes, you'll see me tomorrow. Good night, Damon."

"Good night, Bonnie."

* * *

**The next morning…**

Grabbing her purse and keys, Bonnie checked her reflection in the mirror that was hung on the wall next to her front door. Today she decided to wear her long locks in loose curls, a look she hadn't exactly worn since coming on board Damon's campaign. The curls made her look young, innocent, and perhaps she needed it as a deterrent so she wouldn't be reminded that she was, in her own way, breaking up a home.

Her conscience began to prick at her.

_You think you deserve him because you love him and he loves you. Well he married Rosalie for a reason and that reason has nothing to do with you._

_We didn't know each other at the time, _was Bonnie's counterargument.

_If Damon quote-en-quote wants to throw it all away now what was wrong with him doing so while he was still on the campaign trail? Before he got in too deep? He could have conceded, gotten a divorce, and the two of you could be living in Tahiti somewhere. But no, he wanted to be president more than he wanted to make a life with you. And you're an idiot for not realizing that fact sooner._

_I pushed him to be president because I wanted him to be._

_Are you sure about that? _Her conscience snickered. _Damon is never going to give up the good life to start one with you. Best you figure that out now and get out while you still can before you destroy what's left of your soul._

Bonnie quickly thought of something else yet her conscience kept whispering in her ear that her involvement with Damon would end one of two ways. She had tried, since learning of his accident, not to think about what would happen if the truth of their affair became public knowledge. Her reputation would be in the fucking garbage. Damon would be booted on his ass out of the White House. She'd never be able to land another crisis management job again. Damon would become a hermit to escape public persecution. Both of them would slip into oblivion. The damage would be irreparable.

Even if they made it out alive, and Damon went about divorcing Rosalie where exactly would they go? Bonnie didn't have the answers so she was just taking things one day at a time. She knew people. People had a tendency to change their minds. When things looked good they were all-aboard, but the second they're faced with adversity that's when their true colors appeared. Damon was tougher than he looked, and he repeatedly tried to convince her or himself that he didn't care about public opinion, but she did, and that would be the dividing wedge between them.

Leaving her apartment, Bonnie locked the door and headed towards the elevator. There was someone waiting there. A man.

She didn't say anything but did feel the man turn a little to look at her. "Oh, it's you."

Bonnie stared up at the man and recognized he was the guy who knocked on her door last night. Before she could control it a smile lit her face.

"Josh…Harmon, right?" Bonnie asked.

Josh nodded his head. Bonnie didn't think it was possible for someone to get even more attractive in the span of eight hours, but Josh did. Gone was the five o'clock shadow that had marred his jaw line last night and its place was baby smooth skin. The overhead florescent lighting highlighted the blue of his eyes, but they still couldn't hold a candle to Damon's, but it didn't make them any less striking. Some delicious cologne wafted off his skin.

Josh stuck out his hand. Bonnie had to switch her satchel over to her left hand to shake it.

"Bonnie Bennett," she told him.

"Nice to meet you."

"Did you find the owner of that dog?"

The elevator arrived on their floor and they both stepped on. Josh pressed the button for the lobby. "I did. He belonged to a vet actually."

"Oh," Bonnie said, "on my floor?"

"No," Josh smiled showing his perfect teeth. "I'm friends with one your neighbors. Mrs. Brooks is a sweet old lady whose husband passed away a few years ago. I check on her from time –to-time."

"That's so nice of you," Bonnie replied awkwardly and felt kind of bad that Josh knew more about her neighbors than she did. She had no idea who Mrs. Brooks was, what she looked like.

They arrived at the lobby and Josh held out his hand for Bonnie to precede him. Silence passed between then as they headed towards the front door where Josh held it open for Bonnie. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he slid on a pair of shades, which only made him more insanely hot.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Bonnie. Hope to run into you again," Josh blinded Bonnie with his mega-watt smile.

Bonnie ignored that last part and said. "Nice meeting you, too. Have a good day at work," she said and then walked towards the waiting Ford sedan. Connor opened up the back passenger door for Bonnie who quickly mumbled hello. Alone with her thoughts again, Bonnie shook her head. What the hell, girl?

* * *

He was dreaming and he knew he was dreaming because Damon was back in the garage at his parent's home restoring his 1967 Chevy Camaro with the drop top. It was his first car that he paid for with money he earned working as an aide under Mayor Richard Lockwood. He was wiping his hands clean when Bonnie slid from under the car dressed in a practically see-through white wife beater—no bra—and super tight jeans. Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail and she had oil smudges on her face but she couldn't have been any hotter to him.

Damon helped her to her feet and wiped a fleck of dirt off her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"So what's your prognosis, doc?" he asked.

"Your radiator is busted and leaking and so is something else, but I don't know what."

"Damn, do you have any idea how sexy you are when you talk mechanics," Damon bit his lip as he tilted Bonnie's chin up and kissed her with all the built-up passion he hadn't been able to release until now.

Bonnie smiled into his kiss and tightened her grip on his wife beater. Soon the sounds of their lips smacking bounced off the concrete walls of the garage. Damon felt himself tightening below the belt and the swell increased ten-fold as he fondled Bonnie's breasts. His fingers trailed down and went to unbuckle his pants, but Bonnie pulled away and laughed.

"What are you doing?" she asked. Damon stared at her quizzically. "You know you can't get it up," and her soft laughter turned into high-pitched shrieks as she pointed at his crotch. "You're as flaccid as a corpse. Get the fuck out of here," she cackled like a witch. "A thousand pills of Viagra won't help your ass."

Damon blinked nearly ready to start crying but that would have been after he wrapped his hands around her neck.

Forcibly, Damon woke himself up from his dream that was avalanching into a nightmare. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he coughed, and looked around. He was alone. Thinking, Damon went over his dream again. He was sure he felt _something _when he had been kissing Bonnie. He wasn't dead down there. There was still life if only a flicker of it in his paralyzed limbs. Damon rationalized he could build on it not because he felt his reputation hinged on him being able to get an erection, although that was part of it. He knew it was foolish to think he was no longer a man because he couldn't please his woman. But the thought of Bonnie laughing at his temporary impotence, and leaving him for someone else terrified him.

Sighing, he wondered if he was about to do what he was about to do. Decision made, Damon slipped one hand under the covers and then inside his hospital gown. He was still forced to wear it for the time being.

He stared down to make sure he was grabbing a hold of his penis because he very well couldn't feel it. Smashing his molars on top of one another, Damon fisted his cock and began to stroke.

This process seemed a bit clinical, so he closed his eyes and pictured Bonnie sprawled out on a bed, naked, and fingering herself.

That vision alone would have had him saluting the sky in a nanosecond, but nothing happened. Damon added a bit more pressure but still it felt like his hand was cupping nothing but air.

And naturally the door would choose that precise moment to swing open. Damon peeked out the corner of his eye to see who it was. Relief swelled within him because it would have been awkward as hell to explain why he was jacking off to his doctor or Klaus or a secret service agent, but considering they were all men they should understand.

Bonnie's eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. Damon was holding his penis in his hand which meant he had been doing one thing. Clearing her throat she stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind her.

Dropping her things on a vacant chair that was pushed up against the wall, Bonnie kept her eyes on Damon and not his hand. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking my dog out for a walk."

Bonnie turned her head away and attempted to stifle a laugh. Damon released himself and pulled the covers back over his lap.

"You've had me waiting all day," he complained softly.

"It's nine o'clock in the morning, Damon," Bonnie chided and sat down in the chair that was adjacent to his bed.

"Hmm…I've been in and out of it since four a.m."

A divot formed between Bonnie's arched eyebrows. Her eyes trailed over his body. His left arm was in a sling and leg was in a soft cast, but he was no longer wearing the neck brace. She briefly glanced at his crotch.

"Are you in pain?" she asked though that wasn't the question she wanted an answer to.

Damon adjusted himself on the bed the best he could which meant he couldn't move very far. "I'm always in pain," is what he wanted to tell her but he didn't want to worry Bonnie. He supposed it was a blessing in disguise to feel anything at all, but he just wanted a break from it for a couple of hours.

"It's manageable. Look, let's not pretend you didn't catch me wanking off as the English would say."

Bonnie held up her hands. "It's none of my business…but…did you…"

"Feel anything?" Damon finished for her. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No."

"It's still early yet for you get feeling back. It'll come. You just had surgery not too long ago and you'll be starting therapy soon."

"I know all this," Damon snapped and then exhaled loudly. "Sorry, I don't mean to bite your head off but I have to listen to people's bullshit and I just want everyone to stop coddling me. I know what the reality of the situation is. I know there's a fifty-fifty chance I might get the feeling back in my legs. No one wants heal faster than me, I just don't need to hear constant reassurances."

Bonnie swallowed and nodded. She wished there was more she could do for Damon, but as he just put it he didn't want to be coddled and she wouldn't push. However she wouldn't become a door mat either and allow him to take his frustrations out on her.

Damon looked at Bonnie. He knew she wanted to say something but was swallowing her words as not to upset him. He reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips where he kissed her knuckles.

"I'm really glad you're here," he spoke candidly.

"I was summoned or have you forgotten?" Bonnie side-eyed him playfully.

Damon hunched a shoulder and then winced at the motion. "You're not easy to manipulate…I like it. Keeps me on my toes."

Bonnie let out a breath. It didn't escape her that Damon might be trying to fight off pain as they spoke. "How can I make you feel better, Damon?"

"Just…let me look at you." And he did starting with the crown of her head, traveling to take in all of her features on her heart-shaped face, gliding down her neck, and pausing for a _very _long time at her breasts which unfortunately was hidden behind the cobalt fabric of her dress. Bonnie blushed and squirmed a little.

"Damon…" she said as his eyes continued to linger and she felt her nipples responding to his optical scrutiny.

The man in question's eyes flew back up to the bashful expression on her face. It still made him puff out his chest that he could make a strong and self-confident woman like Bonnie blush.

"Touch me," he said.

"Damon, someone might walk in here. We can't take that risk."

"Which makes it even more fun…the possibility of being caught. Please?"

"No. I didn't come here to be your fluffer."

Damon snorted. "You're more than that and you know it. Have you forgotten it was your voice, your presence that woke me out of my coma?"

"You were being stubborn and didn't want to open your eyes. That's all that was about," Bonnie refuted.

"Believe what you want, but you have a way with me that no one else does, and I think you should exploit that," Damon took her hand and placed it on his belly.

Bonnie shook her head. "If you didn't feel anything when you tried what makes you think there'll be any difference if I touch you?"

"I thought you wanted to help me?"

"I do, but not like this, Damon."

"Then how exactly did you plan on helping me? By going to meetings? By delivering updates to the press? You think any of that matters to me? No," Damon shook his head and then reached for Bonnie's left hand, his finger tracing the ring he gave her. "This matters to me, and what it means. You're wearing it for a reason after all this time. So what's the reason?"

Instead of answering his question right away, Bonnie looked at the circle of diamonds on her finger. She had told Rosalie that she was the wife of Damon's heart. If she repeated that same sentiment to the president she'd fill Damon's head with even more air. It was how she felt, but she wasn't sure if now was the time to tell him that.

Bonnie cleared her throat and looked Damon square in the eye. "The reason is…I want to be here for you."

"And?"

"I love you."

"And?"

Licking her lips, Bonnie smiled nervously, "I want to fight for you."

As far as Damon was concerned the world stopped spinning. He couldn't recall in all his thirty plus years of life anyone wanting to fight for him. Which just proved to him that Bonnie was the woman he was _meant _to be with.

Damon tugged Bonnie's hand until she had no choice but to move out of the chair and ease on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward to kiss her but Bonnie stopped him.

She cupped his cheek that was covered with a slight five o'clock shadow. Bonnie knew Damon preferred to look a little rough around the edges, but he shaved because he had an image to uphold. The short, bristle hairs of his beard teased her skin and with that same hand, Bonnie lowered it until she touched his chest. A ragged breath escaped Damon as he felt Bonnie reacquainting herself with his rock hard abs. His skin quivered a bit when she reached his navel, and lower still it went following his happy trail. But the second her fingers dropped below his hips there was nothing. A void. He had to look down to see that her hand was indeed still touching him, and that same hand disappeared underneath the blanket.

"Anything?" Bonnie pondered.

Damon shook his head, and moved the blanket so he could see. Surprisingly his mouth was drying up. Watching Bonnie touch him, although he couldn't feel her erotic touch, was still stimulating in a completely unexpected away. She fondled him with what he could imagine was a gentle stroke and her fingers dipped down to cup and squeeze his balls.

I should be groaning, Damon thought. And getting harder by the second probably ready to explode since it's been so long since someone besides him touched his dick. He tried to recall all the times in the past that Bonnie did this very act and though the images certainly made his heart pound, the rest of him wasn't receiving the message.

Damon let out a frustrated breath and Bonnie stopped. The muscle in her hand was soft, boneless, but not any less pleasing to the eyes. Even while non-erect Damon was still far larger than most men at full mast. She wiggled a bit on the bed because the seat of her panties got a little moist.

Sensing that she stopped, Damon looked at Bonnie questioningly and then stared at her thighs. The dress she had on came to knee length while standing, but with her sitting it had eased up considerably. With his right hand he caressed her knee and then pushed her legs apart.

"What are you doing?" Bonnie asked and looked over her shoulder, at the door to make sure no one was coming down the hall. She couldn't hear anything through the thick wood, but she needed something to do as a distraction.

"I haven't touched you in so long," Damon said gutturally. He worked his hand up her inner thigh and already he could feel the heat beating from her core. Damon licked his lips and wondered how wet she was. Bonnie could never touch him or be touched by him without getting aroused.

Bonnie knew she probably shouldn't indulge him. At any second a doctor, nurse, Klaus, or any other key member of his staff might come barging in needing his input on such and such matter. But since it was still fairly early in the morning, Bonnie didn't think anyone would be around for a while. So she pulled up her dress, and tilted her hips just a little more to give Damon easier access.

He wasted no time taking full advantage of it as his maraudering fingers ran across her panty-covered mound, and with some clever maneuvering he pushed the thin fabric aside and ran his finger across her moistened slit. It didn't take long for his fingers to become coated with her gooey wetness.

Bonnie had to stifle her groan the best way she knew how. Biting into her lips just wasn't going to cut it. Damon saw her fighting it and he wanted to hear her, hear her moans, groans, her screams, her shouting his name to the rooftops.

"We have to stop," Bonnie grabbed a hold of Damon's wrist to yank his hand away because he was close to inserting his fingers where she longed them to be. With him circling her clit with soft strokes it was working her up and Bonnie was_ loud_ when she was horny. There was just no censoring that.

Damon grinned roguishly and managed to weasel a finger inside Bonnie's tight, hot sheath. _Fuck, _how he missed her.

"Ride my finger, Bonnie."

She shook her head, unwilling to budge her hips though they wanted to start bucking. As a consequence although she wouldn't view it in that light, Damon slipped another finger inside working his digits in and out.

"Ride _it_," he commanded between clenched teeth.

And just as she was about to, Bonnie got a swift kick from her conscience on what she was about to do and where. Grabbing Damon's wrist and removing it—with some difficulty—from her dripping center, she stood up from the bed, fixed her underwear, and pulled her dress down.

She was _not _Monica Lewinsky or any other woman who found herself entangled in a dangerous, adulterous web. She was a top graduate from Harvard Law, the granddaughter of oil tycoon Archibald Bennett, and she was a fixer of crises, she did not place herself in situations in which she would lose. She didn't go after married men or men in relationships just to get her rocks off. And she certainly never had to resort to this kind of lewd behavior. Screwing in the White House was bad enough, but a hospital? She was losing her grip not just on herself but reality, and the reality was for as good a game as she and Damon talked, she was the other woman, and they needed do things right.

Damon visibly scowled at her.

"This isn't me. I don't get freaky with presidents in hospitals."

"Are you sure about that? Because you were just getting freaky with a president in a hospital."

Bonnie snapped her eyes at Damon. It was plain to see he was very displeased by the turn of events, their anticlimactic end. He knew they were hot for each other but there was always a time and a place for everything and this wasn't it.

Running a cool hand over her face and the back of her neck, Bonnie began to pace. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you. In case you haven't noticed I'm the one with the problem. Bonnie, look at me."

It took her a while but she did.

"This won't be us forever. Sneaking around and having to hide what we mean to each other. I know you don't believe me but I _am_ divorcing Rosalie, and we _are_ going to be together. I just need you to trust me, Bonnie"

The door to his room opened garnering both of their attention. Damon quickly threw the blanket back over his legs while Bonnie tried to smile.

Klaus looked at them shrewdly for a moment. Bonnie's rigid stand by the bed, Damon's hardened face all signs that pointed to another lover's quarrel. Instead of uttering a single word, Klaus merely turned on the television.

"What's happened now?" Damon asked to break up the silence in the room.

"Apparently your wife has taken it upon herself to share the wonderful news with the world," Klaus rolled his eyes.

Both Damon and Bonnie's stomachs plummeted. They fixed their eyes on the flatscreen.

"_It has just been confirmed that First Lady Rosalie Hale-Salvatore is expecting her first child. No word yet from the President about this wonderful news, but we're sure we'll be hearing from the proud father- to-be on the new addition to his family very shortly…"_

Things had just gone from bad to worst.

Chapter end.

**A/N: I'm sure some of you are probably wondering why Bonnie put the brakes on what was going down. Although she realizes that she is the other woman and other women across the broad have been branded homewreckers, she still wants to maintain some type of integrity, although in many respects it's much too late for that. And maybe Bonnie isn't as interested in fighting dirty like she thought she was, or maybe she is. Hmm. So what does Rosalie spilling the beans mean? And nope, I haven't forgotten about the call the First Lady made last chapter. All will be revealed soon enough. I kind of consider this chapter a filler chapter because things will be getting interesting. Oh and the person I envision "playing" Josh Harmon is Matt Bomer. If you don't know who that is, Google him! Dude is fione! Thank you guys for reading! Please let me know what you think. Until next time, love you!**


	8. Role Play

**A/N: Yea! It's an update. Thank you guys for your continued patience with me. I know some are craving updates to my other stories as well, and I've started working on several but finding my muse and making her stick around long enough to hammer out a chapter has become more difficult. So my other stories will be updated I just can't give you a time figure on when that might be. My apologies on that. But here is the latest. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. (Rosalie belongs to Stephenie Meyer)No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Washington, DC**

"_911 what's your emergency?"_

"_I…need…I was just…I need the police!"_

"_Calm down, ma'am and speak clearly."_

_Bonnie's grip on her phone nearly crushed it to pieces. She shouted into the receiver. "I was just attacked in my house! The man is now dead! Send the gotdamn police!"_

_Slamming down the phone, hugging her knees to her chest, Bonnie stared at the body blocking the foyer to her apartment willing it to move and willing it to stay down. Forever._

* * *

**Asheville, North Carolina- 73 hours ago**

Deft fingers swiped raven hair off a pale forehead. Piercing blue eyes stared up at a lovely heart shaped face that was fixed with determination as a divot formed between two perfectly arched auburn eyebrows. Lips, in the shape of Cupid's bow were relaxed and he could see the bottom of her pearly white teeth. The scent of her perfume, something exotic and expensive tickled his nose every time she moved.

Damon white-knuckled the arms of his wheelchair to prevent himself from grabbing Bonnie. She was in the process of making him camera ready for his first official interview since being released from the hospital and transported to one of his private homes. The house in North Carolina was by far his favorite because it was surrounded by several dozen acres of lush green land, and most of his neighbors coveted their privacy as much as he did so he never had any problems with them. The environment here was much more relaxed and less frenetic than it was in DC, and it also meant there were fewer eyes on him. Damon felt he could finally breathe, but now he was holding his breath so he wouldn't say anything that might give away his inner turmoil.

He hated the fact that Bonnie was so close—literally she stood less than a foot away from him, but she stared at him in an impersonal way and spoke to him as President of the United States and not as the man she loved. He knew he should get over this and put on his white professional hat but it was virtually impossible when she stood so close looking young and sexy and doable. Oh, so doable.

If she were having as much as a difficult time in keeping up appearances as he was, then she was doing an outstanding job of concealing it. Damon had made it his part time occupation to learn all of her mannerisms, and quirks. He studied her body language as if it were a doctorate program, could read her like a book, but today other than her swift and efficient movements he couldn't discern what she might have been feeling or thinking.

It was irritating him.

However, none of this was totally surprising because this wasn't the first time that Bonnie had shut him out emotionally or erected barriers between them.

It was in this house after all, the first time they made love. Honestly, it was all Damon had been thinking about as he rode in the heavily armored car to his home. Nevertheless, he continued to stare up at Bonnie silently communicating how much he didn't want to go through with this side show anymore, and wanted to be alone with her.

Bonnie knew perfectly well what Damon was thinking and feeling. This wasn't easy for her, either despite whatever signals she might be giving off. Currently, in the background there were several aides bustling around doing last minute preparations as the designated production team and journalist did their prep work before the official interview began. What she should have been concentrating on were the talking points Damon should adhere to, to make sure the interview ran smoothly because it didn't take much to irritate him even if he appeared calm and relaxed.

Damon had always been something of a reckless ball of energy. He sometimes talked before he thought, acted out irrationally, and hated apologizing even if he knew he was in the wrong. Bonnie was certain she had magical powers to get a man like him elected into the Oval Office, and she couldn't have been prouder of the campaign she ran and organized, but each day she spent living this life, this false pretense that she shared no emotional, physical, spiritual, or intellectual attachment to Damon was eating away at her insides.

She wanted more than this and anytime she felt herself getting greedy, Bonnie reined herself in.

Right now she placed all of her personal drama aside and focused on making Damon presentable, which never took that much work to begin with. Several times she avoided making direct eye contact with him but that didn't mean she hadn't felt the weight or the heat of each of his looks. Damon had eyes that smoldered and incinerated anything in their path, and Bonnie was proud that the only times she melted were behind closed doors and it was just the two of them.

His heavy looks didn't help with the fact that they were back under the roof where their first tryst had taken place. His bedroom was two floors above their heads, but that didn't make Bonnie exempt from hearing an echo of the bed springs sounding off in her ears.

Clearing her throat, Bonnie concentrated as she pinned an American Flag pin on Damon's button down shirt above his heart.

He reached up and grazed her fingers shocking her for a moment and she looked down at him—frowning.

Damon smirked and wiggled his eyebrows making Bonnie shake her head and fight to keep the smile off her lips.

"You smell nice," Damon complimented. "Look nice, too."

"Thank you, Mr. President but I ask you reframe from commenting on my looks and smell when other people are present," Bonnie surreptitiously looked around to see if anyone where paying them any mind. They weren't—thankfully.

Damon leaned forward until his nose was almost buried in her hair. He took a nice long sniff of Bonnie and felt his pulse race even if there wasn't a corresponding action happening below his equator.

"Damon, cut that out," Bonnie admonished and took a step back.

"As soon as this is over I'm going to eat…_you_. I'm starving and I haven't tasted my favorite dish in _months_."

Bonnie's cheeks reddened but she ignored his comment and said aloud, "You're all set, Mr. President. The interview shouldn't take more than forty-five minutes. We've gone over the pre-interview questions so if Mrs. Shiver asks you something that hasn't been pre-approved by your staff the interview will be shut down. Just remember to take your time and if you need a moment, have a sip of water. Pace yourself. I know you want to get this over with as quickly as possible, but try to remember that people haven't seen their President in close to two months."

Pouting, Damon knew playtime was over. "I know…people want to ogle me," he smiled salaciously.

"I'm sure they do," Bonnie muttered dryly. "This isn't about making ovaries explode, Mr. President. It's about reassuring people that you are just as fit now to run this country as you were before the accident."

"Speaking of ovaries exploding…"

Bonnie gave him a hard, stern glare.

"Am I allowed to talk about the accident?" Damon garbled disinterestedly.

Bonnie nodded. "You can be as open and candid as you like."

"Do you think I should? The last thing I want is pity or anyone feeling sorry for me."

Bonnie had to resist cupping his cheek. Instead she fumbled with the collar of his shirt. "I think it would be important for you to connect with the audience by showing your vulnerability. This might also be the perfect opportunity to plug helmet and bike safety and not being so reckless."

Damon grinned. "Never. Recklessness is my forte."

Just before Bonnie could respond the door to the parlor burst open and Rosalie entered in a flourish. Bonnie stepped away from Damon who growled at her but then refocused his attention on his wife who was draped in designer threads from head to toe. Damon was positive Rosalie was part bloodhound because she had an uncanny ability to interrupt his moments with Bonnie.

It was how she found out about his relationship with Bonnie in the first place. Damon didn't like to think of what he had with Bonnie as an affair though it would be construed that way. He loved her—sometimes to ridiculous and suffocating levels but that's just who he was. He was a Salvatore and it was in his blood to love his woman with an insatiable appetite that could never be appeased. Hell, it was difficult sitting here and resisting the urge to pull Bonnie on his lap while kicking everyone out so he could ravish her with his hands and mouth. They, sadly, were the only parts of him still working.

Damon switched his thoughts but it didn't deter the negativity as it clawed its way to the forefront of his mind.

His first therapy session practically left him in tears. He had never felt so much pain in his entire life. It was humbling yet also humiliating to rely on so many people just to transfer out of his hospital bed and into his custom made wheelchair. That had taken a lot of energy out of him which put him in an even darker mood though Damon tried to be positive. However, seeing he had lost a good five pounds of lean muscle in his legs, and even developed a bed sore definitely prickled his virility.

One of the benefits of the experimental spinal cord surgery he underwent, he could—after deep massaging—feel some numbness or tingling in his legs and toes, but unfortunately there had been no movement. Dr. Meredith Sulez told him that was a good sign and that things were heading in the right direction, but still Damon couldn't overcome feeling like he was damaged goods. He was broken and no amount of super glue or duct tape was going to fix him.

The only solace he felt he had left was Bonnie. And now, she was resorting back to her old ways. At least when other people were around. Keeping him at arms length behaving as the consummate professional.

Damon knew it was important because the last thing he'd want was the media to catch wind of his extramarital affair and then harass and hound Bonnie until she did the unthinkable: leave him for good or take her own life. Damon didn't think Bonnie would ever go to that extreme, and if she did he'd kill her, but still one could never rule anything out.

Bonnie was one of the strongest people he knew, male/female, didn't matter. But even he had seen the mighty fall and reduced to pale shadows of their former greatness once a scandal erupted, and ended it all with a .22 caliber bullet to the head.

Rosalie sat down next to Damon looking picture perfect with a mega-watt smile on her face although her eyes were telling a much different story.

"Good afternoon, First Lady," Bonnie said graciously.

Rosalie's smile dimmed a bit and she was definitely cursing Bonnie out with her eyes. "Press Secretary," she sniffed. "Can you give me a moment alone with _my husband_?" she stated emphatically.

Damon was fully prepared to tell Bonnie not to move a muscle, but she was already on the other side of the room fielding questions from his staff.

"What do you want?" Damon asked without looking at Rosalie directly.

"Look, I know things have been tense between us since I leaked that I was pregnant, but you still can't be mad at me about that. I'm beginning to show and speculation was already out there so I did what was right."

"No," Damon refuted and finally looked at Rosalie. "You did was convenient for you so don't get it twisted, Rose. You didn't do it for us you did it for your damn self. But guess what, honey, I don't care how many talk shows you go on and proclaim I'm the father of that thing in your belly. Still hasn't changed my mind about divorcing your ass."

Color flooded Rosalie's cheeks but she bit her tongue knowing this wasn't the time or the place to light into him. Straightening her posture, Rosalie bemoaned the fact she lost her husband. She wouldn't say it was love at first sight with Damon. She wanted to strip him naked and do him on whatever flat surface was available—yes, but he was just another pompous entitled bastard who felt the world was his oyster. That might have been the only commonality they shared, but she also loved his ambition and his drive. When he was passionate about something, Damon stopped at nothing until it was his. Rosalie knew Damon had pursued her half-heartedly. However, the way he was pursuing Bonnie made her want to gut a bitch.

Bringing her honeyed eyes to the Press Secretary who was greeting the interviewer, Rosalie picked Bonnie apart piece by piece to see what it was about her that made her husband quit their marriage and threaten to give up the presidency just to be with her. Bonnie was quintessentially smart and beautiful but there were smart and beautiful women all over DC who worked at the White House, on The Hill, everywhere imaginable. But what was it about _that woman _that infected her husband? Was it because she was black and the myths surrounding black women in the bedroom turned out to be true? Just like that saying: once you go black you never go back?

Rosalie didn't know, but what she did know was that in the history of this country there wasn't one white politician—successful politician who married outside of his race. Oh sure, she couldn't deny there were people of color that served in all branches of the government and held coveted positions, but she knew that if Damon tried to divorce her and marry Bonnie and continue to have a career in politics he'd find himself with zero allies.

Dallying with women of color was acceptable in the good ole boys club, but they drew the line at marrying and comingling bloodlines. That was un-fucking-acceptable. And Damon would learn that soon enough if he continued on the course he was on.

Needless of all of that, Rosalie wouldn't have to worry about Bonnie Bennett having any type of influence over Damon anymore.

She was going to get her husband back one way or the other.

Rosalie said to him, "I know you don't care anything about me, Damon, at least that's what you claim…but why do you always have to find someway to hurt me?"

Inwardly, Damon face palmed himself. He figured the best course of action in dealing with his wife was pretending she wasn't around even if she were sitting right next to him. In a few minutes he was going to have to fake it with Rosalie which was another thing he had perfected through lots and lots of practice, but somewhere deep inside he did acknowledge that his treatment of her was hurtful. He had been a witness to infidelity since he was a teenager. His dad made it no secret that he whored around town, and also kept a bevy of mistresses and call girls on the ready. But he hated seeing what Giuseppe's unfaithfulness did to his mother.

And because of what he and Stefan went through was one of the main reasons Damon had been so against starting a family during the earlier years of their marriage. He didn't want to bring a child into a possible hostile environment, though at the time he was a straight shooter and didn't fool around, not to say temptation wasn't around every corner. Because it was. But Damon wanted to be a good husband, however, somewhere along the way Rosalie stopped being a wife and became his manager and PR person. There was a goal _she _wanted, a title _she _craved and coveted, and _she _used him to get to where _she _wanted to be.

Damon went along for the ride. Now that ride was over and she was refusing to get the hell off.

"Rose…can we just agree that we're not on the same page? I don't mean to keep hurting you but I don't know what else to do, and anything I tried to do would end up hurting you. Why would you want to stay with someone who doesn't want to be with you?"

"Because we made vows, Damon," Rosalie whispered furiously. "Through thick and thin, for better or for worse, through sickness and in health, til death do us part. Those words mean something to me and I can't help it if you've forgotten their meaning or you feel they longer apply. They _do_, and I'm not going anywhere."

Here was their stalemate, their impasse once again. Thankfully journalist Monica Shiver came over and traded pleasantries and jokes, which eased some of the tension between the couple but not by much.

Microphones were clipped on to the First Couple's clothing. The lights were turned on momentarily blinding Damon. Water was poured into Waterford crystal goblets. Those who weren't pertinent were quickly issued out of the room. The camera came on and it was time for yet another episode of _As the Presidency Turns._

Monica Shiver opened up the interview by thanking both the President and First Lady for agreeing to sit down and share with her. Then she posed her first question to break the ice and then eased her way to Rosalie's pregnancy and the more gruesome aspects of Damon's accident.

"I have to ask if you were shocked by discovering you were pregnant, First Lady?"

"I was. I can say that Damon and I have been trying for years to get pregnant, but it's not so easy to do when your life is constantly in the spotlight and you're constantly moving around. So I'm excited our bundle will be here shortly, and I can't wait."

"How does it feel to break new ground in the sense, Mr. President, that you will be the first elected official to become a father while being in office?"

"I'm thrilled," Damon said emotionlessly. Rosalie was quick to add:

"I think he's still in shock," she laughed airily. "It did seem sudden and unplanned, but Damon wants to be a father as much as I want to be a mother. On top of what he's dealing with, with his spinal cord injury it's a lot to process, but I know he's very happy."

"Do you have any names picked out? Or would you be willing to let America name the baby?"

Rosalie turned to Damon, eyes glittering. "That might be fun. We can make it into a contest and whoever the winner is can come to the White House for the baby shower. Doesn't that sound exciting, honey?" Rosalie turned back to face Monica. "We want this baby to be apart of everyone's family as he or she will be apart of ours."

Bonnie watched with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Klaus was standing next to her as silent as a grave but she didn't need to hear him speak to know his thoughts because they mirrored her own. The both of them were having flashbacks to the campaign trail where Damon and Rosalie sat down with renowned journalists spinning a tale of what a joyous marriage they had and how blessed they were to have found the other.

Rosalie was good. Damon needed some improvement, but the fact he had lasted this long without coping an attitude spoke volumes of his progression.

Bonnie felt her stomach contents bubbling. It was easier in the past to look on as Rosalie doted on Damon because she hadn't been sleeping with him at the time. Bonnie could only wonder if what she was feeling was how it felt to date a celebrity and watch that person make out and simulate sex on someone else. Though in your mind you knew it was all pretend still didn't make it any easier to bear witness to the person you loved "faking love" with someone else.

She told herself she was being stupid, irrational, and unnecessarily territorial. Damon may have wanted his walking papers, but for the time being he was still a married man.

As the interview progressed it didn't escape Bonnie's attention that Rosalie had been more touchy-feely with Damon that it looked like she was pawing him. She wasn't content with occasionally draping a hand over Damon's, no she had to link their fingers together, rub his arm, affectionately lean her shoulder into his, smile and stare at him with a lovesick besotted expression on her perfectly made up face whenever Damon was given the floor to talk. And of course she had to rub her belly like it were a genie lamp.

Damon's cheeks grew redder and redder by the minute, not because he was blushing, but because he was pissed that Rosalie, in her own way, was pissing on him as if to mark her territory.

Bonnie gritted her teeth when Rosalie upped the ante and forcibly placed Damon's hand on her protruding stomach. Something about that unsettled Bonnie and she had to look away for a moment. Damon might deny paternity, but…there was no denying how happy Rosalie looked because she was pregnant. The interview turned emotional as Rosalie began crying and sprouting how fortunate she was that Damon survived his wreck and that he would be around for the birth of their child and they could raise him or her together as man and wife. Then she briefly looked in Bonnie's direction and gave a sort of lecherous smile before diverting her attention back to Monica Shiver.

"Take us back to that day, Mr. President where you lost control of your motorcycle and crashed through the window of a car. What did you feel? What do you remember about that moment? Why did you decide to go joyriding without your security detail?"

The entire room went absolutely still. The camera zoomed in get a close-up shot of Damon's face. He was quiet as he contemplated his answer before looking at Monica.

"I have a temper…I won't lie about that. I've made some foolish mistakes since taking office and they've all played out on the big and small screen. For a moment I just wanted to relive who I used to be. It was a dumb move knowing that I can't go back in time, and I can't be that Damon Salvatore anymore. But for those twenty minutes I was on my bike I didn't have to worry about the wars taking place in the Middle East, or the countless families living without access to affordable healthcare, or the millions of people unable to find a job. I could just be myself.

"I do remember the accident. Every painful moment of it, and it was one of those moments where you see yourself doing something stupid but its too late to stop. The damage was already done. But this accident has made me reevaluate what's important in life. I'm not going to sit on the sidelines anymore and wait for life to happen. You have to create it, and that's what I intend to do. We waste so much time waiting for opportunities and chances to land in our laps, and sometimes we're looking our answer right in the mirror. I'm ready to start the second phase of my life, and I want to do it with the woman I love."

Bonnie chose that moment to stare at her feet while she nibbled on a corner of her lip.

"You love your wife, don't you, Mr. President?"

"Yes, I do."

Her head snapped up and nearly came off after hearing Damon's answer to that particular question.

Rosalie reached for his hand. "I love you, too, sweetie." She knew he hated being called sweetie.

Damon didn't say anything, didn't even acknowledge Rosalie.

More than ready to leave the room, Bonnie sucked it all up as the interview came to a close. Her part wasn't over as she had to debrief the interviewer and key members of her staff. Rosalie hung around to make sure Bonnie and Damon couldn't speak privately.

Two hours later and finally the house was quiet and Damon all but wanted to shove Rosalie into a helicopter back to Washington.

"I think that was our best interview yet. You were so calm…I almost believed you when you said you loved me," Rosalie held her breath hoping Damon might acknowledge that not all the love between them was gone.

"I think it would be best if you went back to DC…tonight."

Rosalie's eyes darkened as she faced her husband. "And I think I should stay with you for a couple of days," she argued as she moved around the master bedroom taking off her expensive jewelry. "Seriously, we just conducted an interview with one of the best journalists in the nation and you're ready to send me packing. I'm sure that'll keep the ruse going that we're a happily in love couple with a child on the way."

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose, "I don't need a babysitter, Rose. There's no reason for you to stay."

"No, what you want to do is feel up that bitch and it's not going to happen. I'm staying. Like it, don't like it, I really don't care."

Sighing heavily, Damon gave up though he hated throwing in the towel. Wheeling himself out of the room, he had someone page Klaus.

The Chief of Staff found Damon loitering in the library nursing a glass of bourbon. "How may I be of service?" Klaus asked factitiously.

"Get rid of Rosalie."

"And while I'm at it should I iron your boxers and chew your food for you, too?" Klaus replied sarcastically. Damon raised an eyebrow. "Consider it done. Should it look like an accident...?"

Damon snapped. "I'm not talking about that 'get rid of' and you know it. I want her gone before this head," he pointed at his cranium, "hits the pillow. Now, what hotel is Bonnie staying in?"

Klaus pursed his lips. "Damon, be smart about this. I know you still have a boner for your press secretary but operate with some kind of scruples. You can't pop up at her hotel and think no one will notice and won't draw to certain conclusions."

"Then have her moved here."

Shaking his head, Klaus disappeared to do what he did best. Make grown people cry.

* * *

Kicking off her shoes uncaring that they hit and scuffed the walls, Bonnie sat down on the edge of the bed. A problem with her reservation her ass. She knew Damon but more so Klaus was behind the hotel suddenly losing her reservation information and then conveniently being out of rooms and suites because some "convention" was in town. A convention that didn't exist when she called in to make the stupid reservation weeks in advance where plenty of rooms ranging from economy to presidential had been available.

He was trying to run her life just like she ran his and for a small fortune to boot.

Bonnie had been glad that she could stay in a hotel since Rosalie had made it no secret that she was staying on for a few days to oversee Damon's physical therapy. There was a state-of-the-art gym at the estate for him to use at his disposal, and where he could meet comfortably with his personal trainer and physical therapist. And though she was only here in Asheville for the weekend, Bonnie wanted a couple of hours to herself to clear her head and process that wild range of emotions she experienced while observing Damon and Rosalie's interview.

Knife through the heart, knife through the heart especially when Damon said he loved his wife. The words came out genuine and for a second his face did soften, but the moment had been fleeting as he quickly went on to the next topic. Bonnie wanted to believe he had been talking about her, but that little voice in the back of her head that was notorious for spoiling her mood said he had been referring to Rosalie.

Now she was back at the place where she didn't want to be. Bonnie wondered how much Klaus had to pay the hotel manager to say her room had been given away.

A soft knock sounded on her door. Getting up, crossing the floor, Bonnie threw open the door not terribly surprised by who was waiting on the other side.

Ungraciously she turned away without holding the door open. Damon, having taken the elevator that had been installed when the house was first built for the first time, wheeled inside her room and then shut and locked the door.

"You're pissed and I'm sorry but I didn't want you to stay at a hotel when there are plenty of rooms here."

"Including your wife," Bonnie said bitingly and retook her seat on the bed.

"She's gone. She's has an important fundraiser she has to attend in the morning."

Bonnie scoffed. "Right. I don't like being manipulated and you know that, Damon."

The man in question came closer to Bonnie who slid higher on the bed. He wasted no time placing his hands on her thighs feeling the soft material of her pencil skirt. Damon stated at Bonnie with those piercingly intense silver-blue eyes dissolving her like butter in a hot frying pan. And it didn't help that it was summer, too and her hormones were notorious for flying all over the place.

"If you wanted me to stay that's all you had to say. Not go behind my back and bribe the hotel where I'm staying to lose my room."

Damon appeared contrite. "Would you believe me if I said it was Klaus' idea?"

"No," Bonnie deadpanned.

Damon shrugged. "It was worth a shot. All right, you know I don't do this often…admit when I'm wrong, and I was, but you don't understand how badly I need you, Bonnie. I need to be around you all the fucking time and when I'm not, when I can't see you I do stupid things."

And that worried Bonnie. What Damon would be willing to do to make sure she never left him.

"I feel like we keep having the same conversation over and over again, Damon. You can't control me or this situation. You have a role to play and a job to do and so do I. When Rosalie is around respect the fact that I don't want to be present and that I need my space."

"All right."

"Promise me," Bonnie reiterated.

Damon sighed, "I promise. I won't make you hang around when Rosalie is circling," he reached for her hands and lowered his head to kiss them. "Let me make it up to you," he started kissing her thighs until he worked his way up to her blouse covered stomach.

"Did you mean what you said? Did you mean it when you said that you loved your wife?"

Pausing in his ministrations, Damon looked up at Bonnie. "Yes."

Heat pierced her heart and she was ready to bolt off the bed, but Damon trapped her between his arms. "I love my wife…the one I intend to marry…the one I'm looking at right now," he grinned boyishly.

Bonnie smiled demurely. "You think I'm simple and that you can have your way with me by saying slightly romantic things like that? I'm not easily swayed, Salvatore."

"I know. You make me work for it which means it has more value to me. Let me show you how invaluable you are to me. Lean back on the bed and put your legs on my shoulders."

Bonnie stripped out of her skirt, Damon peeled off her panties and then the second her legs were over his shoulders, Damon separated her pussy lips with his thick, wet tongue.

Groaning and arching off the mattress, Bonnie grabbed handfuls of the duvet and bit down _hard _on her lip to keep from crying out. Months of pent up sexual frustration and tension began to leak out of her at the same rate her channel was flooded with lubrication. Damon expertly used his tongue and fingers to being her to completion within minutes before pausing to do so yet again.

His heart was hammering in his chest while he drank his fill of Bonnie's heady aroma and nectar more than disappointed that he couldn't do more than this. He didn't mind Bonnie coming on his tongue, in fact that's how he preferred her to bust her "nut" when things were just getting started, but he wanted to feel her inner muscles clamping down and milking him for what he was worth.

Damon didn't know if he'd ever get to feel her like that again.

He began spelling the alphabet against her clit and pulled back the hood of her rigid skin to deliver quick and teasing whips of his tongue against that sensitized peak. Bonnie thrust her hips wildly against his face as she grabbed Damon by the hair on the crowd of his head. His hands held her down on the bed as he licked her from opening to clit, and then sank his elongated tongue deep into her hot pink channel.

It was happening again. The rush of sensations and feelings that moved too fast for her to name and enjoy before another one more pleasurable than the last attacked her. Bonnie's neck arched all the way back until everything in sight was upside down, and when Damon lightly bit that hive of nerves she freaking lost her mind and saw a unicorn riding on a cloud.

Once Bonnie's second orgasm hit she was down for the count. Her legs felt like noodles and shook like leaves as she removed them from Damon's shoulders. She took a moment to catch her breath and allowed her heart time to slow down. Using what little energy and strength she had left, Bonnie leaned up on her elbows and watched Damon lick his fingers clean. There was a shiny glaze staining his lips, chin, and the tip of his nose.

"You're the best I've ever tasted," his eyes darkened to shades of cobalt and indigo and did not help settle the fire roaring between her legs.

"Don't say things like that," Bonnie intoned.

"Why?" he smiled. "Because it makes you blush. I think it's cute."

"You would." Rolling off the bed, Bonnie ran into a wall as she tried to enter the bathroom. "I'm okay."

Damon chuckled then stared down at his unresponsive crotch. A tic began to beat in his jaw and the need to throw something breakable against the wall taunted him but he changed course as he heard Bonnie humming. If he tried to fight his smile he'd be all black and blue. She hummed when she came really,_ really_ good. Yet when she cried, sang, and wanted to fry him up a steak that's when he knew he had put it down and wore her little ass out.

Bonnie came out of the bathroom with a soaked washcloth and proceeded to clean his face and all ten digits. The minute she was done, Bonnie unbuttoned Damon's shirt, pulled off the plain white T-shirt underneath, undid his belt, took off his pants, and then it was a struggle to get him in the high sleigh bed, but they managed. She slipped into her night gown and joined him in bed.

Resting spoon style, Damon dropped kisses to Bonnie's shoulder, cheek, and ear. He dreamt of nothing except being able to do this. To have the freedom and the right to climb into bed with her every night and hold her. But this was just another stolen moment to add to his mental collection.

Bonnie traced shapes on the back of Damon's hand and listened to him breathe.

"What are you thinking?" Damon asked.

Bonnie was thinking how much she wanted a husband and family of her own, but here she was behaving like a vulture and picking off someone else's plate. If she said as much to Damon it would only lead to another argument. He had asked for time and Bonnie had granted it, but she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to play this game.

"I was thinking about what to get my grandfather for his eightieth birthday," she lied though it was a partial truth. "It's in two weeks. The whole family is coming together to celebrate at his farm in Irving, Texas."

"You did tell me about that. Still haven't come up with anything?"

"No. My grandfather, he's a simple enough man to please but he has enough cowboy boots and ten gallon hats to last several lifetimes. I think he just wants his family around now that he's getting up there in age."

"Hmm, so does this mean I won't see you for a while? You're going back to DC on Sunday and then…you won't be back until the end of the month."

It might actually be longer than that because Bonnie had plans to start looking for rental office property. She felt her temporary run as Press Secretary coming to a close. Again, it was best not to bring that up because it would lead to an argument. She may have loved Damon and wanted to be with him and would wait for him, but Bonnie refused to put her career plans on hold. She had to keep moving in that regard.

"If you need me for anything you know I'm just a phone call away," she said.

"It's not the same thing, but I guess I'll make due."

"You'll be fine. Get some sleep, Damon."

"Give me a kiss first."

Bonnie rolled over and kissed him, gently at first until the sounds of their lips smacking and heavy breathing drowned out the crickets. When air became a necessity they parted.

Snuggling as close as he could, Damon buried his face in Bonnie's curls. By the end of the year this was how they would fall asleep every single night of the week.

* * *

**Washington, DC- Present time**

Thanking and tipping the taxi driver, Bonnie pulled her luggage into her apartment complex, and caught the elevator to her floor. She had spent the rest of the weekend avoiding Damon's heated glances, grabby hands, and doing enough work to justify her extended stay at his residence in Asheville. Now she was back in the grind, and was ready to immerse herself in the world of back alley brawl politics yet it didn't bring the same rush to her system that it used to.

Stepping off the elevator, Bonnie jiggled her keys in her hand until she found the one to unlock her apartment door. For some reason though, the hair on the back of her neck decided to stand on end. Disregarding it as work-related and traveling stress, Bonnie inserted her key in the lock.

Just as she turned the doorknob something moved behind her, a black shadow of some sort. Having little time to react, Bonnie felt someone violently forcing her inside the apartment. Her body ran into the end table she had pushed up against the wall that she used to dump her keys and mail on. She fell to the side on the floor, pain slicing through her legs, the wind knocked out of her. She could barely make out anything in her apartment because the lights were out.

Suddenly the intruder reached for her legs, but Bonnie kicked and tried to scramble to her feet. Her legs somehow became entangled with the throw rug, making it nearly impossible to gather her footing.

"Somebody help me!" Bonnie screamed at the top of her lungs hoping one of her neighbors might hear her struggle and come to her aid, but she wasn't relying on that solely.

Something fell and crashed to the floor, it was probably her lamp, but Bonnie didn't care. She was still struggling on the ground with her attacker who was trying to wrap his leather clad hands around her throat. Finally Bonnie managed to kick the intruder and got to her feet. She began running towards the kitchen to grab a knife, but she was pulled ruthlessly by the hair and jerked backwards into a hard chest that was heaving up and down furiously. Bonnie screamed and then that gloved hand clamped down over her mouth. Her body twisted but she couldn't move, couldn't break free, and her entire body went rigid the second she felt his erection pressing against her backside.

Hot tears ran down her face as every woman's nightmare began to crystallize before her very eyes. Bonnie decided that even if she lost her life she was not about to be raped in her own home. He'd have to kill her first.

Grateful that she had taken a self-defense class her senior year in college, Bonnie jabbed her elbow in the man's ribs while simultaneously driving the heel to her sandal into his toe. He didn't exactly ease his grip, but she was released enough to wiggle free. Bonnie ran towards her front door, but he came up behind her, and smashed her head into the mirror which hung over the foyer table. White-hot pain licked up her spine before settling behind her eye sockets and entered her skull which began to bleed profusely. Stunned and momentarily dizzy as blood poured from her wound, Bonnie recovered as best she could. She looked down and saw her letter opener, picked it up, spun around and stabbed the intruder in the neck.

Bonnie watched in horror as the man stumbled, let out a slew of expletives in a language she didn't know. He pulled out the letter opener which caused blood to spurt out like a Geyser. It painted the wall. Bonnie turned her head away and shut her eyes and didn't open them until she heard the man's dead weight hit the ground.

Out of breath, Bonnie slid down to the floor and brought her knees up to her chest. There was blood on her hands both literally and figuratively, but there wasn't anything she would have done differently. She was alive. Some man was dead. The next five minutes were the longest in her life.

Chapter end.

**A/N: All I got to say is…shit just got real. Speculations? Guesses on what's going on? Did you enjoy Bamon? I hope Damon didn't come off as OOC and if he did, welp like I said in earlier chapters it may happen. Thank you guys for reading and I look forward to seeing what you have to say. Reviews are love. Until next time, love you!**


	9. Blast From the Past

**A/N: This features a very long flashback scene. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith (Rosalie belongs to Stephenie Meyer) and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Three Years Ago…**

They had been arguing about this for weeks. His lack of maturity and stance on the issues and really getting his message out there. That's what the website was for, Senator Damon Salvatore had rebutted toward to his staff. But that didn't stop the flow of naysayers from giving their two cents on his progress or lack thereof. They joked and said he wouldn't be able to win a debate against Big Bird. Correction—that's what _she _said. His campaign fixer in front of a live studio audience. Damon had heard the chuckles, the snickers, the laughs at his expense. Some base part of him told him to get used to it because the deeper he went on the campaign trail the more frequent being the laughingstock would occur.

Bursting through the double doors of the empty service kitchen of yet another upscale hotel his sponsors had put him up in, Damon worried his forehead with a hand and licked his teeth. He didn't know what the hell he was doing or why. Soon enough all of his secrets and insecurities would be exposed and he'd become fodder for his opponents who would chew him up and spit him out. He was in over his head, he knew that since day one, but had relied on his unflappability when facing an obstacle to get him through this. Now it seemed he was running on exhaust fumes.

He whirled around when he heard a voice. _Her _voice coming from somewhere in the kitchen. Lightly walking over the tile floors so he wouldn't be discovered, Damon neared a corner and then peeked around.

Sure enough Bonnie Bennett stood there with her back to him, cell phone glued her ear. He could easily detect the exasperation in her voice, but there was something else there he hadn't heard before and that was…desperation.

"Please, don't do this and not now, Alexander. I told you that I couldn't give you a definitive answer when we talked about this last week. This isn't exactly the typical job where I can request a day off."

"_Bonnie I haven't seen you in two months. I understand what you're doing and it's wonderful but…"_

"But what?"

"_We were having this disagreement way before you left. I don't want to be a Debbie Downer but no one is going to elect an Independent candidate as president."_

"Is that your nice way of saying I'm wasting my time?"

Silence followed.

"I asked you a question, Alex and I'd appreciate an answer."

"_Bon…I want more."_

"And you think I don't?"

"_Honestly, no I don't think you want more. At least not from me."_

"Al-,"

"_No, let me finish. We've been together for three years, we live together, but we're more like roommates than two people in a relationship. I asked you to marry me and you've yet to give me an answer. And when you said you'd try to take a day off so we could see each other now you're trying to back out. If you want out of this relationship just say the word. My bags are already packed."_

If there was one thing Bonnie hated was being pushed into a corner and issued an ultimatum. Walking back and forth over the Spanish tile floor of the hotel restaurant kitchen, Bonnie in a fit of frustration brushed her hair off her face.

"Now that doesn't sound like the actions of a man who's interested in salvaging his relationship. You packed your bags!" Pause. "You met someone else. Haven't you?"

A deep sigh was all the answer Bonnie needed. Her chin quivered but she refused to allow one single tear to fall for this man. She had met Alexander Pettyfer after graduating from law school and he was doing his residency at Virginia Medical Center. The both of them instantly clicked, moved in together a year after dating exclusively, and had been, at least Bonnie thought, in love ever since. Like all relationships they had hit their number of rough patches but were always able to work their way back to each other.

Apparently it wasn't going to happen this time around.

"_No, Bonnie," _Alexander finally came back on the line. _"I haven't met anyone. I'm just tired of coming home to an empty house. We work long hours, rarely do anything together. If we're going to live separate lives then I might as well move out and into my own place."_

"So that's it? You're done? You're not even going to try to fight to stay together because I can't get a day off and fly to Richmond to see you?"

"_It's not about the day it's just a bunch of stuff that's accumulated over the years. I…I don't want to hold you back in your career. I don't. But…I've been offered a position with George Washington Medical and…I'm going to take it. I'm moving to DC."_

Bonnie's mouth opened and closed and opened again. "Alex…"

And it was the way she said his name that did something to Damon. He should feel horrible for snooping and eavesdropping on her conversation like this, but well he didn't. For the last seven weeks she had been on his ass criticizing everything there was to criticize about him, and for a moment he really didn't think she was human. She rarely slept, drank coffee like it was heroine and she was an addict, and talked so fast he thought he had stumbled into a Sotheby's auction. So to see her with her guard down and that halo off her head sort of changed his perspective about her.

She had issues just like the rest of them which ultimately put them all in the same boat.

"Alex," Bonnie said. "This could work. When Damon becomes President I'll be in DC all the time. We have too much history to just throw in the towel."

"_One of the things I love about you, Bonnie is your optimism, but this time around I just don't…I don't share your faith. And if by some miracle that senator does get elected I doubt you'll have any free time because I'm sure he'll offer you a staff position. And you'll accept because why return to being a junior partner at a small but prestigious law firm when you can work at The White House. It's every Poly-Sci students dream. That's why I think we should cut our losses now while things are still good between us."_

Bonnie shook her head. She could talk her way into and out of any situation but she was finding herself at a loss for words. Alexander was serious about this and even she had to admit the truth of his words. Life wouldn't get simpler if she achieved the impossible and made a viable president out of Damon Salvatore. And if he did offer her a coveted position on his staff, Bonnie already knew she'd accept. Practicing law was what she was good at, but it wasn't her passion. No, solving things, making lemonade with grapes is what she thrived on. However, she had invested so much time with Alex that she simply didn't want to just give up and walk away.

"We'll be stopping in Maryland to do some campaigning in just a few weeks. We can talk then. Please, Alex. Just wait for me."

"_I have to go, Bonnie."_

"Alex!"

"_I love you, but this is good bye."_

Bonnie slowly pulled her phone away as the dial tone sounded off in her ear. Clicking the phone off, she sniffled, and then snorted. Just like that. He ended everything, a three-year relationship over the phone. Who did that? Pussies, that's who.

Turning around, Bonnie shrieked when he saw Damon standing and _hiding _not very well, mind you behind a corner.

She narrowed her eyes and watched as his cheeks reddened profusely. "How long have you been standing there listening to my conversation, _Senator_?" she questioned heatedly and snidely.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have…I didn't mean…are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Bonnie proceeded to brush past him but Damon caught her by the arm. Bonnie stiffened and looked at the hand detaining her before bringing her eyes up to meet Damon's. They appeared so earnest for a second that a brick from the wall she erected around herself tumbled down.

"If you need a day off, take it. Things aren't going to go to hell in a hand basket if you're not around twenty-four seven."

Bonnie shook her head. "I can't leave. There's too much to do and I don't trust you not to do or say something stupid in my absence."

Snorting derisively, the blue-eyed senator rolled his eyes heavenward. "I'm sure you think I bought my way into the Senate and maybe I did," Damon shrugged. "But I'm a damn fine politician and I don't need a babysitter."

"Uh-hun, whatever you say. Can you let me go now? I have work to do."

Damon released her and mumbled under his breath, "Now I see why he dumped your ass."

Bonnie stopped and pivoted in her Michael Kors boots. "Excuse me? Did you just…what did you say?"

"Uh…nothing," Damon attempted to look innocent and failed. He straightened his spine as Bonnie approached him, standing toe-to-toe.

"If you have something to say, Senator then I suggest you say it. You've never had a problem with running your mouth or expressing your opinions, so don't censor yourself on my behalf."

"It's nothing, Bonnie. You have work to do," he waved her off in the direction of the exit. "I suggest you get back to it. I'm not paying you to hide out in kitchens reenacting scenes from _Days of Our Lives._"

Bonnie laughed humorlessly and turned to leave again. "Asshole."

Biting his lips, Damon began to go after her. "Bonnie, wait."

"Its fine, Senator. We don't have the highest opinion of one another so be it."

Damon stopped her again by placing his hand on her shoulder which caused Bonnie to jerk to a stop. This time when she looked up at him her eyes were lit and her nostrils flared. Damon swallowed thickly. He couldn't figure out what it was about this woman that made him want to strangle her one minute and then act like an adolescent with a crush the next. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was the first woman outside of his mother and on occasion Rosalie who didn't put up with his douchebaggery.

"What do you want from me?!" Bonnie exploded. "Do you want me to get back to work on your stupid campaign or do you want to keep trading subtle insults? Which is it?"

Damon dropped his hand and stuck that same hand in his pocket. He ignored the burning, tingly feeling going off in his palm and fingers just from that brief contact with Bonnie.

"I shouldn't have listened to your conversation and I…ah…er…apologize for that."

Bonnie studied him for a moment, folding her arms under her breasts. "You don't like apologizing, do you?"

"No, I don't," Damon chortled and looked away. Apologizing made him feel weak and he wasn't.

"Then this is good practice for you. Presidents have to issue apologies and come off looking sincere all the time. Do you think that's something you can handle?"

Probably not, Damon thought, but occasionally he could put his ego aside for the greater good. He would just have to try very hard to always be right.

"Look, we haven't gotten off to the best start but I do value what you're doing," Damon said.

"Okay," Bonnie hedged and wondered if he was going to get to his point sometime this century. There were things that had to be done, yet she wasn't interested in doing anything unless it involved a gallon of really good and fattening chocolate ice cream.

"That being said I'm giving you the week off."

Bonnie's jaw slackened. "I can't take a week off. We're going to five states in ten days. I can't…"

"We'll be fine. Go take care of your personal business and we'll meet up in Nebraska. That's an order," Damon lifted a brow and pointed at her.

The campaign fixer rolled her emerald eyes. "As nice as it sounds, even taking a day off would be detrimental. I can't."

"You want to know something I learned?" Damon pondered.

"Wow, you learned something," replied Bonnie sarcastically.

Now it was Damon's turn to roll his eyes but he couldn't help but smile. "I learned, Miss Bennett that we often take things for granted thinking they'll always be around, and then one day we look up and it's gone. I don't know much about you, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to find yourself in that situation with this guy. And…I don't want a vindictive woman running my campaign," he teased to which Bonnie scowled. "So take a day, a week, whatever. Recharge your batteries, and fix your life before it goes up in smoke. Okay?"

Bonnie studied the senator for a moment, thinking. He had a point, but she wasn't one to drop what she was doing to go coddle her boyfriend, but having a day to herself would be nice. She nodded and went back to her room.

She didn't exactly take all five days much to Damon's secret relief. Only two where he wondered how she made up for being a shoddy girlfriend. When she returned he couldn't read her. Bonnie was as efficient as ever before. Not missing a step, beat, directing and orchestrating this large symphony with a smile on her face that never wavered. But when he drew close to her to look over a document or speech he could see the strain in her eyes.

They were on the bus to Maryland when Bonnie sat down beside him. "It's over," was her preamble.

Shifting slightly to study her, Damon wasn't sure what to make of her confession or more to the matter, why she felt it necessary to tell him.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Damon intoned. Quite a few people were passed out, but not everyone was asleep. Sound traveled especially in tight quarters but if Bonnie wanted to purge, he'd let her.

Bonnie quickly flicked her moss green eyes at Damon. "It's been over for a while. I think the both of us were just in denial about it. We grew apart. It happens, right?"

Damon nodded. He was the poster child for relationships running their course and drying up like a river in a desert.

"You'll be okay," he said.

"I know that," Bonnie pasted a tremulous smile on her face. "I'm sure you're wondering why am I telling you this, and I don't know why either. It's…it's inappropriate. In a roundabout sort of way you're my boss and I shouldn't be…we shouldn't be talking about this because it has nothing to do with the campaign, but…you were there," she narrowed her eyes at him playfully. At least Damon hoped it was in a playful manner, "So I figured why not give you an update."

Damon leaned a little closer, his head not quite touching hers but close enough that it looked intimate. He cleared his throat because for some inexplicable reason his heart began to speed.

Bonnie, too, found herself being affected by his closeness. He smelled amazing and several times she found herself wondering what fragrance his cologne was but never struck up the nerve to ask him. Besides, what would be the point? It's not like she had anyone she could go out and buy that brand of cologne for anyways. She and Alexander had split amicably, and right now a private moving company was shuffling his things out of their townhome. The minute she got the chance, Bonnie was going to put it on the market for sale.

"We've been in each other's faces for months…things can't always be all business between us," he spoke softly. "Thanks for keeping me in the loop."

Bonnie infinitesimally nodded her head and tried not to stare too long in his glowing bright blue orbs. Admittedly, Bonnie had never seen anyone with a pair of eyes like Damon's. Right now they resembled sapphires but in direct sunlight they became liquid mercury. She'd have to be blind not to confess that Damon was by far the most handsome man she knew, and that was saying a lot because in her world she interacted with men everyday. A large percentage of them handsome and GQ fine, some of them average looking but with a personality that shrunk that deficiency, and many more she wouldn't even spare a second glance.

Damon on the other hand captured not only her attention, but he titillated her mind. Stimulated the synapes in her brain. But she didn't want to feel that way about him. It was wrong to.

She quickly looked away and played with her fingers. Her throat was growing dry and self-consciously she ran a hand down her neck. She shouldn't be sitting next to him like this talking about her failed relationship. It was none of his business.

His hand on top of hers startled her that she jerked away and then jumped out of the seat. "I should…" she stammered and walked off without finishing her point.

That was the start of it all. Bonnie tried to keep things professional. Only speaking with Damon about campaign related issues, only smiling at him when others were present so it wouldn't be misconstrued as anything else.

By the time they made it to Maryland and did their usual rounds of press conferences, visiting local businesses, attending pee-wee baseball and soccer games, and having luncheons and fundraisers at churches, schools, and colleges, Damon came up with the idea of having Game Night at Dave & Busters at Anne Arundel Mills Mall in Annapolis for his team.

Their competitive spirits came out but Bonnie proved to be the better athlete. Nevertheless, it was the most fun Damon had had since becoming an adult.

Their night continued as they sat down to have dinner, just the two of them, at McCormick & Schmidt. Drawing the curtains closed at their booth to have a modicum of privacy, they dined on fresh seafood and finished off an entire bottle of chardonnay. Conversation consisted of Damon's run-ins with the law during his high school days and early college years while Bonnie regaled him with exploits of rush week when she pledged her sorority.

"You had to perform a strip tease for a member of the affiliated fraternity to your sorority?"

Demurely, Bonnie lowered her head and tried not to feel mortified. "Mind you I was already drunk off my ass and just went with the flow. I don't think I was very good. I only walked away with ten bucks in cash. They were all one dollar bills."

Damon gawked at her unable to believe that uptight and uber-professional Bonnie Bennett would ever do something as salacious as that.

"I don't believe you. I need proof."

Bonnie laughed raucously. "I'm glad the pictures have been destroyed."

Shaking his head in regret, Damon killed the rest of the wine in his glass before refilling it. He poured more into Bonnie's goblet and sat the bottle down. If he had been the one Bonnie danced for that night she would have walked away with more than ten dollars. That was for sure.

He frowned. He shouldn't be thinking about her like that. They were political co-workers.

Yet, as he sat back against the booth and trailed his eyes over her he saw much more than just Bonnie's professional façade. She was a knockout, intelligent, probably smarter than him—no she was smarter than him—feisty, witty, and strong. A true compliment to his brash ways and prickly demeanor. Or as his Italian counterparts would say: _pericolosa. _Dangerous.

"What are you doing?" he looked away.

"I'm sorry, what?" Bonnie questioned.

Damon snapped his eyes back to her realizing he said that aloud. "Nothing." Pause. "Do you think you made the right decision in signing up to run this campaign?" his gaze turned up the voltage in intensity as he looked at her.

Bonnie took a sip of her wine before answering, her eyes staring at Damon over the rim of the glass. The mood had changed so swiftly that it made her head spin.

She sat her glass down and licked her bottom lip. Damon's eyes narrowed at the corners. "I know I did. I've never made a more right decision in my life. I don't quit until I win. And winning is what I do. We're going to build something great, something the world hasn't seen in a long time. Are you in?"

He might have fallen a little bit in love with her at that moment.

The chauffeured ride back to the hotel had been silent. As well as the ride up the elevator to their respective floor. Damon escorted Bonnie to her room, walking side-by-side their hands accidentally brushing one another. When they arrived at her door, Bonnie dug around in her purse for her keycard, and the minute she had it, she hesitated and faced Damon.

For all intents and purposes their outing had turned into a date. Bonnie didn't want to call a spade a spade in this instance, but she and Damon had taken their leave from the rest of the group, did their own thing, and saw a different side to one another as a result of it. She may have been feeling vulnerable and less than zero because her relationship with Alexander was over. But as one door closed, another opened; however she couldn't exactly walk through the one that was pointing in _his _direction.

After spending so many late nights and long days together Bonnie was ready to come clean and say she was attracted to Damon Salvatore. But it couldn't go anywhere, and figured she better nip this in the bud now while the nipping was still good.

However, that notion quickly vanished as he stepped closer, entering her personal space, sucking up all the oxygen with his proximity.

"I had fun," Damon admitted. "I've forgotten what it feels like to be normal, you know? So thank you."

Bonnie smiled, feeling nervous. "Why are you thanking me? You paid for everything."

"Technically my sponsors paid. I just supplied my John Hancock. We should do this again…just the two of us."

"We can't, Senator."

Damon groaned and placed one hand on the wall behind Bonnie's head, getting closer. "I'm not a senator. Not right now I'm not."

"Okay, but guess what you're still married. So you should stop whatever it is you're trying to do and get some sleep. Check out is at six a.m.," Bonnie reminded him.

Damon lifted her chin and Bonnie held his gaze for a second before averting her eyes. "Look at me."

It may have taken longer than he would have preferred, but eventually Bonnie did.

"I like you and I'm…I'm drawn to you and I shouldn't be because I'm…" he held up his left hand showing off his wedding band. "After five years of marriage I realized sometimes we don't always say 'I do' to the right person."

Bonnie pulled her head away and took a step away to establish a neutral zone only to find her back crashing into the door. "Damon…don't do this. It's the wine talking."

"I'm stone cold sober. Sober enough to know _exactly _what I'm doing and saying. I need you to forgive me."

"For what?"

"For this," he pulled her forward by the waist and sealed his mouth over hers.

Bonnie's eyes remained opened because she had to witness that this was in fact real. That Senator Damon Salvatore was indeed kissing her in their hotel hallway where anyone was liable to see them. Her lids lowered of their own volition because his mouth…whoo it had been _too _long since someone kissed her so passionately, ardently, robbing her of breath and common sense to push him away. He worked his mouth over hers like he was determined to rewrite every single preconceived notion she had about him, and yeah it was working. Her hands remained stiff at her sides, but when he cupped her face, and adjusted her head at a more comfortable angle to gain better access to her lips, Bonnie grabbed a handful of his shirt.

She was getting into it, Damon could tell. Her lips were kissing him back, fighting like a pair of shadow boxers, and he didn't want it to end. It didn't take long before he wedged his tongue between her lips where they smashed into her teeth. The second Bonnie widened her jaw, he slipped his tongue deep into her mouth, finding her tongue and massaging it with his own.

Bonnie moaned. She had had her share of kisses in the past, but nothing quite like this. Damon was overwhelming her, filling her head with too much air and pornographic images because she began to wonder what sleeping with him would be like.

The second that thought entered her brain, Bonnie abruptly pulled away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. And that same hand connected with his eye socket.

"Fuck!" Damon cursed and placed a hand over his throbbing eye as he stumbled back.

Bonnie groaned, winced, and clutched her hand to her chest before spinning away and jamming her keycard in the lock.

She didn't say anything. The punch said enough as she barricaded herself in her room, slamming the door in his face, the sound reverberating through the hall.

"Bonnie," Damon said lowly and placed his balled fist on her door determined to knock and he wouldn't stop until she opened the door or he broke it, whichever came first. "You are an idiot, Damon," he lamented. "And you're probably facing a lawsuit right this second."

Shaking his head, Damon stared forlornly at the door before cutting his losses and leaving. If there was any doubt before it was gone now. Damon was in love.

On the other side, Bonnie was shaking, more like trembling as she braced her weight against the door. She touched her lips which still tingled.

She might have fallen in love a little bit after that punch.

* * *

**Present time…**

Bonnie sat on an examination table in a small room at James Madison waiting to be seen by the attending ER doctor. Her eyes were wide and everything was much too bright. Tremors periodically racked her body and she was brought a blanket to keep warm.

Her vitals had been taken, as well as her statement by DC police. As much as she tried to focus on the facts in a detached and clinical manner, her mind couldn't stop replaying that scene over and over in her mind. Being grabbed and pushed into her apartment, feeling that man and what his intent was, and then that awful moment of plunging her letter opener into his neck.

Bonnie's gag reflex fluttered.

She had sliced into his carotid artery almost killing him instantly. Her? A killer? Bonnie shook her head furiously which was already pounding. The nurse had given her an ibuprofen, and she had been prepped to get stitches. Her stomach rumbled with nausea and several times Bonnie's gaze wondered over to the trashcan wondering if she would have enough time to reach it before she regurgitated.

She was out of time as the door opened and she was greeted to a blast from her past.

"Alexander?" Bonnie mumbled and deliberately blinked her eyes to make certain that the man standing in the puke green scrubs was in fact her ex-boyfriend.

The doctor slowed his steps, his blue eyes taking her in. "Bonnie…I had no idea…what happened?" he approached her and took a look at the gash on her head.

"I ah…" she took a breath to gather her thoughts. Everything about Alexander was the same except his hair was shorter. When they first met it reached down to his shoulders and he typically wore it in a ponytail, but now it was cropped short making him look even more distinguished. Bonnie saw crow's feet around his eyes, and lines around his mouth. Bags were under his eyes, but it's what Bonnie would expect an ER physician to have. The long hours and unpredictability kept one on their toes, but after a while it could wear down the body.

He still carried his stocky build and his olive skin was even more tanned probably the product of just coming from vacationing at the beach.

"I ah…was attacked," Bonnie replied truthfully, "in my apartment."

A look of concern washed over Alexander's face before it became impassive. "I'm sorry to hear that," he went over to the sink and washed his hands. Once that was done, the nurse helped him with his latex gloves. "We'll have you stitched up in no time. Is there someone waiting for you to drive you home? You'll be given a strong narcotic and you shouldn't drive once it's in your system."

"I called someone. He should be here by now or on the way."

Alexander nodded and then began working on closing the wound on Bonnie's head. The tension was heavy until Bonnie decided to break it.

"I thought you were working at GW?"

"I did for about a year until this position opened up. You're Press Secretary for The White House. That's…that's quite an accomplishment."

"Yeah," Bonnie muttered and winced. The anesthetic she was given wasn't strong enough because she could feel the prick of the needle every time Alexander worked to sew her up. "I'm only there temporarily. I plan to go into business for myself."

"Hmm."

Bonnie decided to cut the chit-chat.

Twenty minutes later, Alexander shucked off his gloves. "Done. We're going to give you some additional information on how to keep this clean. The stitches are dissolvable so you won't have to return to get them removed, but you should make a follow-up appointment with your doctor. If you experience blackouts, vertigo, blurred vision, you should schedule to have an MRI done. You do have a mild concussion, but with rest you'll be fine. Do you have any questions?"

"No. Thank you, Alexander."

The doctor in question nodded. "I'll be back with a prescription and your discharge papers," he quickly left.

Almost an hour later, Bonnie was finally permitted to leave. She declined being kept for observation. For the most part she felt fine, but she was tired and exhausted. Heading toward the waiting room, Bonnie was wheeled past the nurses' station and heard someone call her name.

Asking the orderly to stop so she could acknowledge the deeply masculine voice, Bonnie's eyes bulged. Walking towards her wearing cerulean scrubs and a white lab coat was her neighbor. "Josh Harmon. You're a doctor," she exclaimed.

"Neurosurgeon," his eyes going to the gauze bandage on her head. "What happened?"

"Ah…I was…" Bonnie wasn't sure if she should tell this man she was attacked in their building. It didn't take a genius to know if she did divulge that information it would lead to a bunch of questions she wasn't prepared to answer. "I was involved in an… accident. I'm okay."

"Who patched you up?" Josh asked trying to keep his hands to himself. He had a bad habit of looking over another doctor's work just to make sure things were handled properly.

"Alex," Bonnie pierced her eyes shut, "Dr. Alexander Pettyfer."

Josh nodded. He knew the doctor but only in passing. "I heard he's very efficient. Do you have a concussion?"

"Mild," Bonnie nodded and was beginning to feel woozy.

"Is someone available to drive you home? If not, my shift ends in half an hour. I can take you home."

"No, that won't be necessary. My ride…"

"Is right here, love."

Bonnie craned her neck and released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding until seeing Klaus. She refaced Josh feeling even more off her equilibrium than the first time she laid eyes on him, concussion notwithstanding. No one should be that gorgeous. The man should be an actor wearing tailored suits, not performing brain surgeries.

She scrambled to make introductions. "Klaus this is Dr. Josh Harmon, my neighbor. Josh this is Klaus Mikaelson. We work together."

The two men shook hands.

"I should get going," Bonnie said to Josh who nodded.

"Okay. I hope I'm not being too presumptuous, but do you mind if I drop by later just to check up on you?" Josh asked.

Bonnie swallowed. "I won't be at my place…" she trailed off. Forming sentences and talking was becoming a task.

"No need to worry, doctor," Klaus said to Josh. "She's in capable hands. Come, Bonnie. The car is waiting."

"I'll see you, Josh."

"Take care, Bonnie. And try to stay off your feet for at least a day. Head injuries are nothing to play with."

Nodding, Bonnie was wheeled away with Klaus following.

Seated in the back of the waiting town car, Klaus directed the driver to drive them to his home in Alexandria.

"What happened, love?"

Bonnie bit her nails and then looked at Klaus in the dark interior of the car. "I was attacked and…I killed a man," a tear fell from her eye.

Klaus mouthed the word _fuck. _"Do you know who it was?"

Bonnie shook her head. "The DC police should be able to give me his name by morning," she shuddered and burrowed deeper into the leather seat, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She didn't want to think about what happend, what she did, but it was determined not to leave her alone. Bonnie was waiting for that moment when she would lose her shit, but right now she was in too much shock to really process what happened.

"Damon is not going to like this when he hears of it."

"You're not telling him," Bonnie said vehemently.

Klaus stared at her aghast. "You can't exactly keep something of this magnitude quiet, Bonnie. Maybe we can keep your name out of the papers, but not the incident itself. And Damon _will _find out about someone attacking you in your home."

"And you know exactly what he'll do the minute he does. Reining in his impulsive nature is hard enough as it is. Just please don't say anything to him about it."

"Are you going to tell him?"

Bonnie shrugged. She wanted to but at the same time she didn't. If she did Damon would make some foolish demand like her moving into The White House for her own protection.

"Then prepare yourself, Bonnie because if he learns of what happened from someone other than you…may God have mercy on your soul."

Bonnie rolled her eyes and directed her attention to the world outside that was passing her by.

"You want to tell me about the doctor offering to see you home?" Klaus tried to keep the smirk off his face.

"No," Bonnie quickly replied.

* * *

"Did you do it?" a voice whispered harshly.

"There was a complication."

Arched eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean there was a complication?"

"Just watch the news tonight."

Dial tone.

Rosalie stared at her cell phone in disbelief and growled. Sucking in a massive breath of air, she quietly slipped out of the office and made her way back to the study where Damon was. Her return to DC had been brief and she wasted no time hopping a flight to be with him in North Carolina much to his chagrin.

Smiling, she crossed over the room and took a seat on the chaise next to his wheelchair. Unsurprisingly, Damon had ignored her appearance. He was busy pretending to look over intelligence reports.

Grabbing the remote, Rosalie clicked on the TV and flipped the satellite channels until she found a local news station broadcasting from DC.

"…_information is still being gathered about the security breach at Sytech Labs in Bethesda. Right now a preliminary investigation is underway, but officials do not believe the breach was external, but internal. Right now the building is in lockdown; only authorized personnel are allowed entry. We'll have more about this story during our eleven o'clock newscast. _

"_A woman was attacked and a man killed tonight as a result of a home invasion gone wrong. Police arrived at the Camden Grand Parc which is only blocks away from The White House a little after nine o'clock p.m. where they discovered the body of a masked man inside an apartment. The woman, also the victim, called 911, suffered minor, non-threatening injuries and was rushed to James Madison Hospital Center for treatment."_

Damon snapped his eyes to the TV. Camden Grand Parc was where Bonnie lived and she would have just arrived home at the same time this murder may have taken place.

"_The name of the deceased and the woman attacked is not being released at this time. Police are still investigating. In other news…"_

Dropping the stack of papers he had been reading over, Damon wheeled over the phone and picked up the receiver.

Rosalie stared at him, quizzically. "What's wrong?"

Damon ignored his wife as he demanded a private line and called Bonnie. Her phone rang until her voice mail kicked on. As worried as he was trying not to be, Damon didn't leave a message. He had enough couth to know it wouldn't be wise to broadcast his suspicion to Rosalie. Since he couldn't reach Bonnie, Damon called Klaus, and once again received no answer. Frustrated and peeved, Damon dialed one more number and was immediately patched through to a trusted member of the Secret Service.

"I need you to look into the murder that happened at the Camden Grand Parc and get back to me with what you find. It's imperative."

"Yes, sir."

Damon hung up the phone and wheeled around to see an irate looking Rosalie glaring at him. A vein was protruding from the middle of her forehead. She stood up from the chair.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing," Damon replied.

"I have my bachelor's in English, my master's in Criminal Justice, and my Ph.D in International Studies so I ask you not treat me like an idiot. You think she was attacked?"

"Do you even care?" Damon answered her question with one of his own.

"In all honestly, no I don't. Bonnie isn't my concern. _You _on the other hand are. I refuse to share you anymore, Damon. You'll recommit to this marriage or I will make life _very _difficult for you."

Damon graced his wife with an ironical twist of his lips. "In case you haven't noticed life is already gotdamn difficult for me."

Rosalie approached and leaned forward, bracing her hands on the arm rests of his wheelchair. "You being a temporary cripple will seem like a cake walk, pun fully intended, compared to what will happen to you if you continue on with this ludicrous notion that you and Bonnie fucking Bennett are soul mates, star-crossed lovers, and all that other Shakespearian bullshit. Don't. Test. Me, Damon," Rosalie carefully enunciated every word, before backing away.

Leaving the room, she sighed heavily and cursed. It was time for Plan B.

* * *

Placing her feet on the cobblestone pathway of Klaus' mini-mansion, Bonnie exited the car at the same time the front door opened and out came Klaus' better half Greta Martin-Mikaelson.

"Bonnie…long time no see. Please come in," Greta wrapped an arm loosely around Bonnie and flicked her eyes towards her husband.

"Yeah, I just wish it were under better circumstances," Bonnie stated flatly.

Being ushered inside Klaus' lair, Bonnie was promptly showed to a guestroom. Greta promised to return with a change of clothes since they were about the same size and height.

Finally alone, Bonnie pulled her cell from her purse and noticed she had six missed calls all of them marked private which meant they were from Damon. He had left her one voice mail and she'd listen to that later. Right now there was a very important phone call she needed to place first.

Dialing the familiar number, Bonnie didn't have to wait long before the line was connected.

"Well this is a surprise," remarked the baritone voice.

"Hi, Jeremy. How soon can you catch a flight to DC?"

Chapter end.

**A/N: When I started this Bamon was well established in their relationship, and I showed their first time, but I didn't show how everything really started. So I hope you guys enjoyed reading the flashback. And in case you were wondering, I borrowed Alexander who was one of The Five to be Bonnie's ex. I've built Bonnie's "team" in my head and you will see the rest of Bonnie Bennett and Associates slowly start to trickle in the story. And yes, Jeremy will be her "Huck" but he won't necessarily be like Huck in the sense that he was homeless, living on the streets, and mentally unstable. And that Rosalie, you have to keep your eyes on her. What exactly will Damon do once he finds out Bonnie was attacked because trust he will find out? Stay tuned. Thank you so much for reading guys. And please review!**


	10. Breakaway

**A/N: Well it's been close to three months since I last touched this story. The muse operates when she wants to, and so I've been pushing my brain to get this out. This update is dedicated to *starinthem*. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story for your patience. I can't promise when the next update will come. If the response is good I promise to get an update out within a month, if feedback is poor…well it might take a little longer. Just like ambrosia is food for the gods, reviews is food for my muse. She likes to eat. A lot. So without further ado, here is the latest. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters (except my OC's) are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**The White House—Washington, DC**

Two weeks that's how long he's known the truth. Two weeks and that's how long she's kept the truth from him.

Damon Salvatore wouldn't say he was livid. No livid was too small a word to describe the range of emotions that coiled deep inside like a parasite living off the very living tissue and cells that he willingly gave to her of his own free will. In all honesty, he stopped belonging to himself the minute he freely gave his heart to Bonnie, unofficially giving her total control over him, his moods, his schedule, his time, his attention, his love, his power.

And this is what she does with it. Pretend it doesn't exist. Like she could give a shit. Lie to him. Continuously. Straightforwardly. Without blinking. With a smile on her face. Dancing around the issue as if this were a filibuster holding up new legislation from taking effect. Damon was a born politician, but Bonnie was a beast compared to him, never once bringing up the issue that practically burned through his retina whenever they saw one another either through telecommuting or in person.

No, livid was too small, didn't encompass a single shred of the feelings that clawed through him as each second, minute, hour passed twisting his mind into different scenarios in trying to figure out what exactly happened that night. Those thoughts manifested into nightmares and he'd wake up in a cold sweat with her name hanging on the tip of his tongue, mind racing, heart beating inhumanly fast with an uncontrollable urge to go to her. But he had a weakness. A deficiency. An imbalance with his own body that restrained and forbade him from making a single move to protect the woman who _owned _him.

Damon really didn't know what he was more upset about. The fact Bonnie hadn't come to him with what happened to her so he could fix it, _or _the fact he laid down everything he had to give to her and she had yet to return the gesture.

His patience was waning. Like a cornered viper. He was awaiting the perfect moment and opportunity to strike. She would feel his venom and Damon wasn't sure how it would affect their relationship. Either positively or negatively, and under much different circumstances that would've scared him but he was done living in fear about anything. He could have lost his life due to his own stupidity and impulsivity, but he was still here, given a second chance and he wasn't going to squander it tip-toeing around waiting for the other party to make up her mind.

And Damon knew that Klaus knew. Bonnie and Klaus were two peas in a pod, always conspiring, and having their secret talks when they thought no one was watching. But in this business someone was always watching and looking for a crack in the mortar. Yep, he was pissed off with his Chief of Staff but it paled to how fucking furious he was with Bonnie!

Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do. She was several hundred miles away in Texas celebrating her grandfather's eightieth birthday. A huge accomplishment. So he would give her this weekend to continue this ignorant charade, make her think he didn't know she had been attacked in her own home. Her life could have been taken from her, and she never _once _brought it up. Never once mentioned it. If she decided to go along the lines of utter bullshit and say she didn't tell him because she wanted to protect him he would…

Damon's hand tightened into a hard fist, his bones felt like they were only seconds away from bursting from his skin.

Didn't she know that she was his jewel? His treasure? His most valuable possession on the face of the earth? Didn't she know that he thought of her tirelessly and was pushing his body beyond its limits so he could be the man she loved and the president the American people voted for? But it seemed like he was doing all of this hard work with little results and dividends to show for it, and Damon was getting tired. Tired of living this way. Tired of pretending he was this great man who thought of these wonderful ideas to springboard the US back to the top of the super power chart. He was tired of pretending with Rosalie that whatever reasons they decided to marry were the same reasons they were still together. He was sick of watching her belly grow with a fetus he knew he didn't harvest. He just wanted out. Out of this office. Out of this position. Out of his own broken body. Out of denial that one day he could achieve it all and have Bonnie right there by his side.

The door to the Oval Office opened and Damon didn't even turn his eyes away from the window to acknowledge who it was.

"The dossier you requested, Mr. President," said a soft feminine voice of one of his aides.

"Thanks," Damon retorted dryly. A second or two passed and he realized, vaguely, that the aide hadn't left. Looking over his shoulder, Damon took in her bright brown eyes, her long chestnut hair parted clean down the middle, her olive skin. He frowned because he didn't recognize her. "Who are you?"

The aide tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks turning an interesting shade of pink. She momentarily dropped her eyes to her feet before looking at him again—shyly. "Elena…Gilbert. I'm here temporarily. Filling in for Scott McCall."

Damon nodded. Scott was one of the slackers from what Damon could remember, but he always showed up with results once given a task to do.

"Welcome aboard," the sullen President muttered before returning his gaze to the window.

"Can I just say how honored I am to be here working for you…for The White House, Sir," Elena almost fangirled and giggled.

"Un-hun," was Damon's lackluster reply.

Clearing her throat, Elena mustered on. "Do you need anything, Mr. President?"

Damon shook his head in the negative.

"Okay," she said and then quietly left the Oval Office.

That wasn't true. He did need something. Better yet someone. And she wasn't here.

* * *

**Irving, Texas**

The dry heat of late summer baked the earth until it was fried but it didn't seem to touch the seventeen acres of lush green grasses that was the Bennett Ranch. Horses and cows munched on the earth lazily fattening themselves until they tipped over to their sides, tails swatting flies away.

"_Git in there…yeah yeah…git in there… yeah yeah"_

"The Wobble" blasted from speakers as four generations of Bonnie's family crammed on a specially built dance floor swaying hips and rolling their arms in the air as they did their rendition of the latest dance craze. Though there were a million things on in Bonnie's mind, she only focused her attention on the fact that for the first time in weeks, she felt footloose and fancy free. She was with cousins, aunties, uncles, and the main attraction himself her grandfather Archibald Bennett. What more could she want?

_Damon._

Bonnie held her smile in place even though she wanted to frown. She caught sight of her grandfather who was dancing with his great-grandchildren attempting to stay on beat.

Archibald Bennett was a proud man. A trait he passed down to his offspring to which his grandchildren inherited, and he wasn't a man who believed in standing around waiting for a handout. He was of the belief that if you wanted something to happen, you had to be the one to make it happen. The world didn't owe you any favors, not even a dime when you came fully equipped with everything you needed in order to succeed. It was a lesson that Bonnie held on to and practiced and she credited her grandfather with her level of success. She was good at hiding her insecurities, but like everyone else Bonnie was petrified of failure but she didn't let it hinder her.

The Wobble drew to a close and Bonnie took that as her opportunity to slip off the dance floor and get something to drink.

Her aunt Bernadine, who also happened to be Archibald Bennett's eldest sister, had outlined an entire itinerary of activities to last the entire weekend. Tonight was a formal dinner followed by a musical performance from one of her grandfather's favorite contemporary jazz bands. Tomorrow there was the boat ride, and Sunday everyone was expected to attend church service with brunch promptly served thereafter; and then one last hurrah before the attendees had to hop on planes and go to their separate corners of the earth.

Grabbing a flute of champagne off one of the many food tables stationed around the dance floor built under a gossamer white tent, Bonnie fanned her damp skin, and nearly guzzled half of the golden fluid.

She wasn't standing alone for long before her granddad approached, his almond complexioned skin showing not a single sign of his true age, and those dark brown sage eyes glowing with unbridled happiness. He had a crown of white hair cut low to his scalp and though he only stood at five-eight he carried a stocky build. In his formative years, Archibald had been an amateur boxer, and held a few titles before utilizing his finance and business degree to start a plethora of business in the greater Fort Worth, Texas area. He was now retired and living off the fruits of his labor.

"There's my favorite grandchild," he crooned when he stood next to Bonnie and planted a kiss on her blushing cheek.

"You're not supposed to have favorites, granddad."

"Are you correctin' me, little girl?"

Bonnie shook her head at her grandfather's attempt to chastise her. "No, sir. And as your favorite let's go inside and get you a beer," she winked.

Archibald returned her wink and conspiratorially looked around to make sure no one was watching them. His sister Bernadine was a certified life ruiner and killjoy simply because he had some health issues earlier this year. No alcohol, no sugar, no salt, no fat. He was supposed to eat, according to her, leaves, beans, and fish. Didn't no one in the state of Texas have time for that! Especially not during the summer.

Bonnie wrapped her arm around her grandfather's as they hustled back inside the air conditioned coolness of his estate. Walking through the long immaculate corridors, they reached the kitchen where there was a hive of activity taking place. Two chefs were commissioned to work relentlessly the entire weekend while a full staff prepared dishes for the formal dinner tonight.

Worming her way through the staff, Bonnie took out a beer, closed the fridge with her hip, and then motioned with her head for Archibald to follow her.

They were safely behind the closed door of his study moments later. Archibald slipped out of his jacket and loosened his tie as he took a seat behind his desk, and accepted the bottle of beer. Twisting off the cap he took a hearty swallow and sighed in relief.

"Bernie will snatch you bald and tan my hide if she finds out about this," Archibald belched and then offered up an apology. "Here's to getting' caught," he held up his bottle in salute.

Bonnie smiled and began to pace around the study. When she was growing up she would spend a month here every summer until she reached thirteen and began working as a youth volunteer for the mayor of Mystic Falls, Virginia, her hometown.

Archibald studied one of his many gifted grandchildren with a speculative eye. "Something is on that mind of yours, Bebe. What is it?"

Bonnie smirked at the nickname she had since birth. She took a seat in the brown leather chair that sat opposite Archibald's desk. "I told myself that I wasn't going to come here and talk business, but I kind of have to. You know I've been reinstated temporarily as Press Secretary, and everything has kind of calmed down. Before, I was over in Sweden working for one branch of the royal family as a crisis manager, and trying to build up my clientele. Well, now I feel its time I started my own firm…for real this time."

"I've been saying," Archibald began, "the best business to get into is the one _you _run. I also said that if you needed help with start up costs that I'm here to lend my checkbook and expertise. All you have to do is ask, Bebe."

"And I wanted to come to you with an actual business proposal."

Archibald waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I don't need some long-winded business proposal. You've proven you can handle just about anything. Plus you have a good head on your shoulders and know how to execute good judgment. Your work ethic speaks for itself."

Bonnie shifted a bit in her seat. Would her granddad still feel that way if she knew she was or had been sleeping with the President? Probably not. Her physical relationship with Damon was…well it was on pause. Emotionally they were still going at it like bunnies.

"Tell you what," Archibald took another greedy sip of beer before continuing, "I'll call Hal first thing in the morning to find out what we need to do to get this ball rolling."

Bonnie nodded. Hal Halpren was her grandfather's attorney, fraternity brother, and honorary member of their family since she was in diapers. "Thank you, granddad. I'm going to pay you back every single cent."

"No need to thank me just yet. I don't give two dollars to just anybody," he joked. Bonnie laughed. "And don't worry about paying me back. Just be successful. That's all I want in return. I know they're going to miss you at The White House, but all good things gotta come to an end at some point."

Bonnie made no comment and then groaned when she heard a brusque knock on the door punctually followed by the sound of her aunt's shrill voice.

"Archibald Bennett you better not be in there getting drunk!"

Rising from his seat and hiding what was left of his beer behind a couple books on the shelf, he turned sheepish eyes on Bonnie.

"Remember…we were just talking and nothing else," Archibald strode to the door and then pivoted to face Bonnie again. "You got a breath mint on you by any chance?"

**::::::**

Later that evening, Bonnie was on the phone with Jeremy Gilbert her security and Intelligence expert who had just finished installing cameras and a high tech security system in her new apartment. Remaining in her old one hadn't even been a question. There was no way she could go home at the end of the night, step into the foyer and not have a flashback of being rushed from behind, and literally fighting to save her life. Though the body had long since been bagged and taken away, to Bonnie it still laid there in her atrium.

Her assailant later identified as Ronald Earl Spillner was an ex-foremen from a textiles plant who had a criminal history that was a mile long. DC Police searched his apartment and discovered he had been stalking Bonnie for weeks. When questioned if she knew who he was, Bonnie had no answer because she didn't even know the man existed until he attacked her.

The investigation was still ongoing of course.

"Everything is all set and I'll show you how to operate it when you get back," Jeremy said.

"Good. I talked to my granddad and he's willing to loan me the start up money. I want to start scouting locations ASAP and then work on building our staff. Any suggestions?"

"Marcel du Pointe has been looking to get out of the entertainment industry. He's tired of being a high-powered version of Maury and fighting paternity suits for his clients."

"All right, I'll set up a meeting with him. I was thinking of bringing on Caroline Forbes and April Young."

"Caroline I can understand because the girl can sniff out dirt and controversy on anyone, but April Young? DC will eat her alive that is if she can survive the Metro during rush hour without getting trampled."

Bonnie laughed. "April might appear fragile but she's a good lawyer and fact finder. With you and me handling the accounting and business end of things, we might need one additional person."

"What about…Atticus Shane?"

Bonnie shivered. "No," she responded resolutely.

Atticus Shane a former professor at Harvard Law had a drug co-dependency problem, a couple of restraining orders against him, and he was just all around creepy. Though he had a photographic memory and could manipulate situations in his favor, Bonnie wanted integral people working for her. But, she would keep him in mind and maybe offer him freelance work if the need ever arose to obtain information on someone illegally without it being traced back to her.

"We'll keep brainstorming later," she mused.

"What about my sister?" Jeremy suggested.

"Elena…she just started working as an aide at The White House if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah and she won't shut up about it, but she's only going to be there for six months. She graduates from GW in December. She'll need something permanent to start paying back that mountain of student loan debt."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. She might be offered a position at The House or maybe a constituent will bring her on. Anything can happen."

Jeremy sighed in resignation. "Oh, and just so you know there's been an unmarked sedan with government tags parked outside of your place for the last week or so. I pegged them as Secret Service."

Grumbling, Bonnie sat down on the edge of the bed. "Compliments of the Chief of Staff," she alleged though she knew that was a bold-faced lie. The SS worked directly under the President and did his bidding and no one else's. She of course knew that Jeremy knew that.

"I still say you should have moved to another apartment complex altogether, Bonnie. Moving into a different unit doesn't up your chances of protection."

"I understand that, but I like the building despite what happened to me. Right now I just need to focus on getting Bennett and Associates up and running. I can move later. It's late and I have a full day of activities tomorrow. I'll see you on Tuesday, Jeremy."

"Tuesday it is. Talk with you later."

"Good night," Bonnie hung up the phone and then tossed her BlackBerry aside. It buzzed a moment later with an email alert from Klaus. Reading it, she frowned. There had been an attack on an American Embassy in Greece. "Just perfect," she muttered. So much for getting some sleep.

* * *

**Three Days Later—The White House**

Her heart was in her throat. Bonnie had never been mortally afraid to be alone with Damon since she crash landed into his life while he was charming a crowd of potential sponsors for his campaign. What she wouldn't give to be able to go back to the time where Senator Damon Salvatore was nothing more than a job, another bulletin point on her resume. Now, here she was three years later entangled in a complicated and fucked up love triangle, and though she had prepared plenty of exit strategies she found herself inexplicably incapable of implementing a single one.

Tonight she was going to tender her informal resignation. The business loan paperwork Hal Halpren had drafted was officially being filed, and Bonnie was free to move on to the next step to finalizing her dream.

Her time as Press Secretary was only meant to be a brief stint not an actual reinstatement. As much as she loved her job and the people around her, Bonnie was ready to take all she had learned, form her own team of movers and shakes who would have impact on the world even if it came indirectly. Titans in suits—that was her new tagline and her new outlook on life. No matter what happened during this meeting with Damon, Bonnie would leave with her head held high and the last remains of her dignity. She loved him but at the same time she needed to step out of his shadow and become her own source of light.

Hand poised on the door, Bonnie sucked in a calming breath. She sensed Mrs. Palmers, Damon's executive assistant looking at her curiously. Running her tongue over her bottom lip, Bonnie knocked once and then opened the door.

Damon was seated behind his desk, head bowed over the dossier on his credenza. He didn't raise his head to look at her, and that made her frown. Damon had been expecting her and normally he couldn't wait to get his hands on her, but this was the first time Bonnie felt like she was intruding on him.

Nevertheless, she quietly shut the door, walked over the huge Presidential seal on the carpet and stood in front of his desk.

Damon motioned for her to come closer without lifting his head. Bonnie did as silently ordered and stood next to his wheelchair peering over the top of his head.

"You wanted to see me," Bonnie said unnecessarily.

"Have a seat."

She was prepared to walk back over to one of the double couches in the office when Damon's hand wrapped around her arm, tugged, and Bonnie fell kind of awkwardly on his lap. She adjusted her position until she was comfortable and foolishly she wondered if she might be causing him some kind of discomfort but immediately dismissed it. Damon used to tease her about feeling like air whenever he held her.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, Damon closed the open dossier he had been pretending to read, slid it out of the way and picked up another one.

"Read what's inside," he whispered in her ear.

Bonnie's spine stiffened because she didn't have a good feeling about the contents, but opened the folder and began reading an unofficial report from one of Damon's trusted Secret Service agents.

The more she read the more she felt sick. Her stomach was no longer in her body, but had jumped ship and ran out of the room where she desperately wanted to follow. There it was a detailed history of her movements from the time she boarded a flight from North Carolina to Reagan International, the incident she shoved to the dark corners of her mind. The attempted rape and possible murder.

It only took her two minutes to read the three page report, but Bonnie went over it again. She didn't know how long Damon had this in possession, how long he knew, and Klaus' words came back to her where he warned her that she had better tell Damon before he found out from another source.

Bonnie knew the crime had been reported on the news and her name had been left out, but Damon apparently put two and two together because during one of their trysts, she finally broke down and told him where she lived. Frequently he promised to visit, but it was simply too dangerous and ludicrous that Damon thought he could just waltz inside her apartment building—casually—like he was visiting an old friend. He lost those privileges of moving freely and without guard when he took the oath to defend the Constitution and all the other bullshit that came along with being president.

Bonnie's mouth chose now to be uncooperative as it took a while for her to remember language, and finally start speaking. "H-how long have you known?"

Damon wrapped both arms around Bonnie's waist and held her as tightly against his chest as he could. "Long enough. You know what this means, right?"

The fact he wasn't yelling. The fact that his voice had taken on the smooth and velvety timbre he often used when he was trying to get her in the mood, unnerved Bonnie more than anything. The calm before the storm. The lighting before the boom of thunder. The rattle of a tail before the strike. All signs that pointed to the fact she was in deep shit.

"What?" Bonnie asked.

"You're moving into Blair House."

Upon hearing that Bonnie tried to jump out of Damon's super tight embrace but she found herself unable to go anywhere. Damon held her so tightly Bonnie was feeling short of breath.

"Let me go," she demanded.

"Do you know the hell I've been living inside of my head for the last two weeks waiting for you to open your mouth and tell me the truth? And every single day where I asked you if you were okay, if there was anything you wanted to tell me, what was your response? 'Everything's fine, sir.' Why have you been lying to me?"

"I haven't been lying to you, Damon," Bonnie refuted his claim. "You have enough problems and I'm handling what happened to me."

"You seem to not understand something," Bonnie felt the switch in Damon's demeanor and it made chills run down her spine. "I will _destroy anything _that tries to take you away from me. And I will do it with a smile on my face and blood on my hands if I have to. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. If that means I handcuff you to my wheelchair so be it. You can't run from me, hide the truth from me. I live here," he pressed his right hand against her heart, "and I'm trying to make my way back here," his left hand slid up her skirt and cupped her through her panties. "Yet you are determined to shut me out and guess what? It. Won't. Fucking. Happen. There won't be a move you make that I won't know about."

Bonnie's heart was pounding and blood rushed every which way in her body. She was incensed by Damon's speech yet also inappropriately turned on by it. In this moment Bonnie felt like she was sitting on the lap of a lion that had been starved for months, and was about to feast on its first piece of bloodied meat.

"You make me sound like I'm your property, Damon and I'm not. You don't _own _me, and you don't get to dictate my every move. I'm not moving into Blair House. You are out of your ever loving mind if you think I am. Now _take _your hands off of me!"

He should do as she said, but that base part of him that spoke caveman denied her request. Damon grabbed Bonnie by the chin and forced her to look at him. "Do you want to be with me?"

Bonnie blinked in confusion. "What does that have to do with you invading my privacy?"

"Answer the question," he barked.

"No!" Bonnie screeched. Devastation quickly filled Damon's eyes and his jaw slackened. "No," she reiterated and shook her head, "my wanting to be with you doesn't give you the right to invade my life like I'm a terrorist, Damon. I'm not your wife, hell we're not even boyfriend and girlfriend. Things are…we have our bond but we need to start living in reality. You and I right now…can't work."

Gulping, Damon loosened his grip on Bonnie who wasted no time sliding off his lap. Smoothing down her skirt, Bonnie walked back to the opposite side of the desk, throat tightening, tears wanting to burst out of her ducts. Bonnie couldn't stand to see that pained look on Damon's face and knowing she put it there made her feel even more horrible. Her fingers twisted the ring—his ring—and she stared at it sadly wishing it was more than just a promise ring.

"As my employer, yes I should have told you about the incident, and I'm sorry I didn't. I wanted to, and I was going to in my own way," Bonnie mumbled softly. "But I knew in telling you, you would suggest something outlandish like you just did. I get it, Damon you love me and you want me safe. I understand and I feel the same way about you, but there has to be boundaries, limits…" pause. "I didn't want to do things this way."

"What are you saying?" Damon's hackles began to rise.

"You know I only came back temporarily."

"Bonnie, don't do this to me again. _Please._"

"It's time for me move on and start my business. I'm not leaving _you, _but I am leaving this House. It's time."

Damon wheeled around the desk and approached Bonnie. He took her hand, drew her out of range of the camera that hung overhead, and over to the window. He pressed a kiss to the hand he was holding.

"You don't have to go right now. We can…we can work something out. I still need you."

Running her fingers over his cheek, Bonnie leaned down while Damon tilted his chin up expectantly. Her lips closed over his briefly and then she pulled away.

"Amber wants her job back," Bonnie attempted to smile but it never reached her eyes. "I've hogged her boss long enough."

A tick hammered away at Damon's jaw and he was trying to rein in his emotions. He toyed with the ring he didn't put on her finger before bringing those sad blue eyes up to the woman who repeatedly broke his heart.

"You don't want me to protect you…you don't want to work with me…I can't even…stand up and…now you're leaving. Again. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Get better. Fight for this," Bonnie touched his leg. "Don't concern yourself with anything else because if it's meant to be, it'll be."

"I don't understand why you're doing this, Bonnie. Why you keep doing this."

"Damon," Bonnie sighed tiredly. "If you know anything about me then you should know that I don't settle. And that's what I've been doing. If I don't make a demand on anything then nothing will change. But at the same time I can't…I can't ask you to be selfish."

The President gritted his teeth and looked away. "Why isn't my love enough for you?"

"Why do you _only _want that to be enough for me?" Bonnie challenged and realized they could go back and forth like this all night and they'd still end up right back here. At a total and complete stalemate. "My decision to leave and start my business has nothing and everything to do with you. You have two more years left as President, but only a year to decide whether you're going to run for re-election."

"I told you I'm out."

"You say that now…"

"And my answer won't change," Damon nearly barked. "All right, fine, you want to leave and start your business then I won't stand in your way. You've earned it. But what about _us_? Are you going to wait for me?"

Bonnie stared down at her feet. "I said that I would."

"But you're only willing to do it for so long. Give me until after Rosalie's child is born. I'll have a paternity test done, prove I'm not the father, and then she can't fight me on the divorce. Just four months, Bonnie."

Nibbling on a corner of her lip, Bonnie didn't want to give in. She had goals in mind. Damon said four months, but what if he asked for an extension, then another extension, and before either of them knew it an entire year or more could pass. Bonnie loved Damon more than anything, however, that meant she couldn't postpone her own life or happiness for him. The downside though, she did want to give him time to get his affairs in order.

Four months, and if they were still in this exact same position, she'd think about it when they got there.

"Okay. Four months and that's it," she agreed.

In four months Damon realized he needed to make a miracle happen. He didn't want to think about how he would act if Bonnie walked out of his life for good if fate decided to be cruel and somehow make him out to be the father of Rosalie's child. The president had spent more than enough time being drunk and having sex while drunk. He remembered all of his sexcapades while inebriated, but he _didn't _remember touching Rosalie like she claimed he did. She was lying and he would prove it one way or the other.

He wanted to hold Bonnie, but realized she had spent enough time alone with him in the Oval and that she needed to go to avoid any suspicion. He felt uneasy about her returning to her apartment building when he learned she had refused to move out altogether and simply relocated to another unit. So he had two SS tail her and keep watch over her.

Lately, Damon had been questioning his sanity when it came to Bonnie. He behaved irrationally and said things no man with any sense of pride would ever say out loud. But he loved her—nearly obsessively—and if he told Bonnie the true depth of his feelings he would only scare her off and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He stared up at her, and tugged her hand until she stood between his legs. "Kiss me and make it good."

Bonnie smirked and then sealed her mouth over his, giving him tongue, alternating biting on his top and bottom lip.

Damon didn't know what it was. Their heated debate, their pissing contest, Bonnie's defiance, his desperation not to lose her, but he felt a twitch, a tingling in his limbs. It was faint but he immediately felt it. The sensation was something akin to the tingling that happened when blood circulation had been reduced or cut off to a limb and then resumed its normal flow. Blood was moving through his body, carrying oxygen, awakening the parts of him that had been in a coma since his accident.

He abruptly pulled away and stared at his legs in befuddlement.

"What's wrong?" Bonnie queried.

"I felt something."

"What?"

Damon shook his head and touched his thigh, gripped it with his hand. He didn't feel anything. He attempted to wiggle his toes in his shoes. Nothing happened. Getting vexed, Damon trailed a hand over his crotch and…

There _had _been something just not anything concrete.

Bonnie watched as Damon fondled himself right in front of her. "Damon, what are you doing?"

"Kiss me again."

"Ah," Bonnie's eyes flew to the door. Her visit had already surpassed the time she should have remained alone with Damon. Quickly she covered her mouth over his.

_Come on, dick jump, twitch, get high, _Damon groused. Unfortunately there was no corresponding sensation of any kind. However, that didn't mean he was going to release Bonnie's lips anytime soon.

This would be his last time doing this since she was determined to leave him in the dust to follow her own dreams. During their long talks, Bonnie had shared with him that after her stint in The White House she wanted to open her own crisis management firm. If Klaus had never brought her on to run his campaign, Bonnie would have quit working at her law firm in Richmond, and opened up her own. She was smart, savvy, and ambitious enough to do it and succeed. Damon was proud of her but also pissed off simply because she was leaving.

He would get his legs working again. He would get out of his marriage. He'd get out of the White House, and he would start his _real_ life. With Bonnie. Anything less than that was unacceptable.

* * *

**Northwest DC**

Sipping green iced tea and scrolling through her BlackBerry, Bonnie sat outside of a trendy bistro across from the Verizon Center. Foot traffic strolled by, while horns blared, and tourists stopped to take pictures of historical buildings and landmarks.

The wind that occasionally blew didn't offer up any relief from the humidity, but a dry wind was better than no wind at all.

"So you want to open up your own crisis management firm."

Bonnie's leaf green eyes snapped up the woman standing by her table, Hermes bag draped on her bent arm, dressed in head to toe Valentino. She smiled.

"That's the word on the street," Bonnie replied. "And that's why I need the best of the best to guide me…Olivia. Please join me, Ms. Pope."

Chapter end.

**A/N: Bonnie and Olivia Pope joining forces. Now, how do these two powerful women know each other? Hmm. And Damon getting or experiencing possible feeling in his legs. Was it just a fluke or the beginning of a miracle? There are a lot of questions to be answered and pieces of the puzzle to fit. If you want more in an expedient manner, well you know what you have to do. Thank you guys for reading. Until next time, love you. **


End file.
